Clear Water
by Adnesle
Summary: Deals with alien love, interspecies relationships, kryss addiction and suicide. Two pairings in this one. Post-Sins of the Father, then Alternate Universe. Disclaimers.


CLEAR WATER  
  
Liam stepped into the enormous hall of the hotel covered with tapestry, and paintings that even Augur could not have allowed himself to buy. Excessive and too extravagant, the hacker would have answered, seeing the number of zeros. And the painting. It was not everyone would could pay the rare Monet's paintings that had survived through the social, money crushing plague that had been for the wealthy and powerful the last step toward the final and last downfall from grace that had remoulded this Earth, until the Companions' arrival, the Sino-Indian war. And not my style, would have Augur added, after longinly observing the painting. It was completly true, the young protector knew his friend enough to say that he prefered modern art to the survivors of the impressionistic tendency.  
  
Definitely, the people that owned that place, all of the island in fact, had to be somewhat important, the kind of person with whom you needed to bow and scrape if you wished not to finish the day in a coffin. Though that, even so, this kind of person would at least dare to pay you a beautiful coffin, Liam yet prefered to be alive and in his so old clothes that he could see through the white ones that in rich clothes and trapped, previously dead, in a very tight box where he would feel quite non at ease. Quite sardonic as a thought no?  
  
But he felt particularly acid today. They - he, Renée Palmer as Doors International representative, Da'an, Zo'or and Sandoval - had been invited here by a very wealthy man, business shark, that had organized a private reception, where he had only preoccupied to ask for the coming of a very few specifically chosen people that were, to him anyway, notorious and known enough to be invited while bringing some echos of it through the vultured medias, on his island, property as private as the reception itself was, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  
  
Liam could still recall the look on Zo'or face when Sandoval, with on his face a look as admirable by the subtletly of the scorn disguised in a very polite disregard, had given him the invitation. He had almost laughed out loud, here, on the bridge in the middle of the volonteers that bustled about doing their everydays tasks in the best fashion they could to preserve their existence from Zo'or's iron grip with which the Synod Leader loved to reign on this place that was exclusively his own. Something shared between the surprise at the sight of something so ridiculously stupid and one of these white rage that were spoken of like legend by the volunteers that had one day served Zo'or to the others that worked on lower stations aboard the ship. The Taelon had simply ended by throw one of his disdainful look to the small card, as if he could make it burst in flames, right there, between his white fingers, only with the strenght of his mind, which thing, fortunatly fot the  
future of the so-said card and for the well-being of the interspecies relations between the Taelons and the human species, did not happen.  
  
Himself had allowed his usually calm and respectful self to comment the sight as the invitation had finally reached his place, after having turned all around the room and passed in all hands. "Des-pi-cable," had he said in a tone that had brought a slight smile to the lips of the expressionless and immutable Sandoval.  
  
And he was still walking in that hall that did not end in ending. When he had entered here, he had felt the same shiver of silence and forced respect that you feel going down your spine when you enter a museum where there are full of old ladies who will look at you very oddly if you sigh anything beyond the sound level of a murmur. And this had immediately put him very non at ease. He had no liking for this place, there was this almost overhelming luxury - that was almost somewhat reminded of lust, in its over-abundance style - that the man, or woman, that lived here attempted to display too much to everyone's stares, so that there was in every corner where you could possibly choose to let fall your eyes on, so much, so overhelming that Liam wisely chose to keep his eyes fixed on Sandoval's shoulders. His boss walked right before him and his coat had the kindness to offer to his retina, that was already mortally wounded by all of these bright color everywhere, a calm, simple  
and dark gray. Things were worse than he would ever have imagined them to be if he were forced to use Sandoval as `eyes holder'... He sighed.  
  
Security measures that neither Sandoval nor him had approved, for once they were agreeing on something else than hating the journalists, had been set into place. Supposedly, an information that they were holding from their welcomers, the exact location of this island was known to nobody but the ones who were living on it for the moment. Yeah, supposedly. Then they had been gently told, as it had been `strongly suggested' to take some time off; a private beach and the Pacific Ocean and its warm water, nice vacation in sight. And despite all, Liam had rarely felt so nervous.  
  
At this moment, someone's apparition turned his attention away from his sarcastic thoughts. He saw Da'an step on the balcony of the second floor, that was at the front giving an access to the hall and at the back of it, one could catch glimpse of the unreal scene of the more or less organized tropical gardens that were morphing and advancing until they were only one with the jungle once again. The view ended on a cliff that slowly lowered until reaching the sea level and forming a beach of sand. But beyong that, there was only... the ocean and its blue. An island like the one that every freshly married couples dreamed of to go and spend there their honey moon finally... But this island was just a bit too perfect for Liam's taste.  
  
The American Companion had somewhat backed away from the group of taelon diplomats that had, as he himself and Zo'or had been, invited to this social gala. The young man watched as he advanced until reaching and folding his delicately moving hands on the guardrail. Once more, like everytime else his gaze had fallen on his graceful form, his stomach suddenly twisted, he felt that the beating of his heart was dangerously increasing until the life-giving organ seemed to wish to escape the cage that his ribs formed tightly around it. It was like this that, since their very first meeting, he had felt in the Taelon's preserve. His attentive eyes slid, nothing but respectfully, on Da'an's frail shape. He seemed so... melancholic. So dreamy since some days, since Liam had Renée had discovered his franctic and ultimetely deadly addiction this magic purple powder that was Kryss. Each times that Liam approached him, from behind or simply without any warning, the Companion jerked,  
startled, and looked at him with this look on his features that was similar to the one of a scared tiny bird feeling itself watched by a cat. In fact the hybrid started to be somewhat worried, scared even. To see Da'an isolate, wall himself away from anything like this. He could see him ever so rarely and in so short occasions. He only prepared the security planning for the person ofthe North American Companion and the volunteers applied them and took care of Da'an's protection in his place. But he could do nothing, it had been Da'an's wish, though unspoken, Liam had been able to guess it through the avoided touches, the faint trembling when he came too close for the Taelon's taste and especially... especially that... that feeling in his eyes that he had seen once. And being at Da'an's side... was what he had the most missed in the last year. He knew that the Taelon prefered to stay aboard the home ship, instead of coming down at the Embassy where he would be forced to speak  
face to face with Liam to communicate him his orders. All worked in an artificial fashion now, and... and the young man felt that the Taelon would soon be looking for someone else to protect him personally.  
  
How many times had Liam sensed the avowal tremble on his lips? How many times had he called out softly for Da'an, a last time before he would depart after their talk, this one had turned back and had prepared to listen to him and Liam had turned away vexed and frustrated with himself, timid and scared like the young child he was, and had answered "No, it's nothing... I'm sorry," ? How much times? He could not bear it much longer. This immense feelings that burned through him, that had hurt him even. This love that had needed a complete year to finally be revealed to itself, because Liam feared it would harm Da'an, only because he had avowed it to himself, for it to be such a lack of honor to Da'an's persona, even if the Taelon knew not the last thing about it... Even if the object of this deliring, of this alluring, frantic, illusory love knew nothing of the feelings that he, Liam Kincaid, was living through, he feared that only of thinking about it he would see a long and  
sticky slug on a delicate and fragile flower... His love for this being of crystal, imperfect, but so beautfiul in this lack of achievement, floating in time, unmoving...  
  
At first, he had not completly realized it. These first moments were in his tender youth, these days of youth, or of the small he had had of, these days when mistakes had been allowed, unlike today, when he had yet so many things to learn about life. At this moment, the only thing that he felt special for Da'an was only a vague timidity in his presence, a vague excitment when he entered the room that he felt for no one else and had never felt for anyone else, not as strong as that. But he had yet to learn what it was, it had taken some weeks, two terran months, before he had finally decided himself to open the three dust-covered books that were, or as he mentally pictured them to be, the parts of his own memory occupied by his parents'. Curiously, it was in Ha'gel's memory that he found the less things about what he wished to know. But of what the anciently felt emotions of his two other parents were keeping in store to him.... he had no idea. When he was able to put a name  
on what he felt, he was scared of it. Love... Then... then he loved Da'an, not like he would have loved a father or a friend or a mentor, but like he would have loved a... lover?... He had been shocked by the news during two weeks of what he had called at the moment the worst time of his life, not knowing that the worst, the true worst was only to come. All of everything he thought he knew about emotions about feelings had been shattered away by this discovery. He had locked himself up in his appartment and had only left it to go at the Embassy. This torture, this torment... these awfully too long moments that he spent away from Da'an, far away from everything he cherished were for him only more and more unbearable.  
  
And after this, after this... then.... Ahd it had only worsened... the lightly expressed tenderness that he felt each time Da'an came close to him, or when he talked softly and gently to him, or when his fingers accidently brushed the Human's... this innocent, calm tenderness had changed suddenly to anticipation, to excitment, to an impatience of every moments... He cherished, he kept preciously in his perfect memory every slightest glances, every fragile touches between them... The fine fingers of Da'an against his own, his white skin, almost transluscent, against his own, almost golden... Then his love had even grown greater... he wasw waiting impatiently, watching ouf all stares, that had come more and more rarely, the time going by, the relations between the two of them slowly getting destroyed. He waited for the least words, so impatiently, that his legs were turning to jelly... the smallest signs of love, of a reciprocity of that burning feelings, something that had  
never come. And he had kept it hidden, becoming even more skilled at wearing a mask than his human father already was.  
  
But, he had finally admitted it to himself. He had finally accepted this love. And, again, it had grown deeper. At this moment in time, each times he saw or met with Da'an, it seemed to him that their talking offered him a chance after every sentences to drive it in such a way that would force himself to avowal, to give him the chance of saying what he would never say, to admit to someone else than himself... to say these words that came to his lips dry with nervousness, the gestures that these hands wet with sweat and in which the shakarava was so intense that he had to close his hands into fists, the stares that would say everything and that, when Da'an had turned his back at him, he took advantage of the moment and observed the slight curve of his body, the way, the paths of his energy patterns that he could see flickering under the skin, and when Da'an turned back to him, he fixed them to the ground, to hide the feverish look inside them that would reveal everything.  
Once, during that period, once when he had been sitting on the edge of the wide-open bay window, at this hone, his two legs hanging over the edge, threatening to fall several meters below. He had had his cheek resting against the wooden material of the wall and his eyes fixing on the orange and pinkish glimmers left by the sunset, during this night, as he, calmly, desperate, did every evenings, he felt again the memories, the feelings again that these special moments he had kept for himself, in his private paradise, and again felt his knees shivering, his legs stagger as Da'an turned to look almost... sweetly upon him... It was this evening, that there, sitting on the over the edge of the window that he had cried of love, he had cried in love. But it was too much. He could not bear to carry that burden on his shoulders alone. He could no longer stand it. He would ultimately die from it. Dying of love... But he wanted to preverse it. Like he would have liked to keep the  
ephemeral beauty of a flower alive by leaving it in the ground, he had wished to preserve, to prevent that love from dying in speaking to no one about it... No he had sworn more than once, that no one would ever know, not unless he would be unable to live because of not sharing it.  
  
Until an evening... another evening, several weeks later, during which he had once more explored through the memories of his parents that, since that discovery and revelation that had been made to him, he had not used again. And he had understand, he had seen, felt and made what every Humans ultimately made when they loved someone... And then, he had broken the contact with these memories that had left him alone, scared and covered with cold sweat, in such a brutal, sharp way that he had almost fallen on the ground. Do this... Make this... No, do that he could never do, he would never be able to do... Profane, violate that delicate, crystalline, fragile, beautiful body that was Da'an's in that... in that... way?... The thought discuted him so much that he almost was sick. But what was happening to him? Was he not Human? Was he not at least partially Human? Did his parents have changed him at the point of changing this something that was so deeply buried inside one?... Did he  
love differently...? And, no, no he did not, could not, could not bear of loving Da'an of a human love... No. Because for Humans... Because every Humans liked, loved that way... And he was not Human... He had desired so much to be accepted by them, by this species of beings that despite all were inferior to him, if he could not be accepted by the Taelons... But now... now he almost was ashamed of this belonging to the human race... Shame for this way that the Humans loved, in this so... carnal path... He could not understand what he had never really understand in the past: why did the Humans prefer the physical beauty to the interior one... But it was this beauty that he cherished, that he adored with Da'an, this beauty, in the inside, that he had felt, that he had felt in the most pofound depths of his self. And doing these things with Da'an, no, no he would never be able of doing these... He wanted... He wanted, but what did he want from Da'an? If it were not that? He  
wanted to be able to protect him, to be able to collect and to cherish all of the most precious memories of existence that he passed at his side. He wanted to hold him, to take him in his arms, to brush with his fingers these features, to kiss these lips that he knew were soft... But nothing more. No, nothing else than that was his wish. The Humans loved of an exclusive, possessive, primitive, animal love, but he did not. He, Liam, he loved almost like a Taelon, then perhaps, had he thought... No, no, ridiculous. Absurd. Stupid and futile idea that had come to his mind. That Da'an could love him? He, Liam Kincaid?, No, never. It was categorical, it was a fact, deicded, unchanged, and to remain like this. His mind did not even hesitate on this. He respected Da'an too much to live on false hopes.  
  
He was crazy with love. He was going crazy with love. Or perhaps had he died during that feverish night he had spent, shivering and trembling on his blanketless bed. And now he was going down to hell and he had to suffer every torments. But after, this acknowledgment, he had comitted the ever to be the greatest mistake of all this short living life that was his. He had talked about it, he had broken his promise to Da'an, it had been unspoken but yet, he had felt betrayed by himself inside. He had talked about it and he had been deceived more than ever he could have imagined to be. In a hard, hurting way a friend that he considered to be the closest being he had grown to, almost his brother, had insulted the dearest thing to his heart. Yes, he had made the most foolish gesture that had been to go and see Augur. He did not remember much about this encounter, only vague souvenirs and memories like if it had been one century ago, but recalling it all was not essential to bring  
back to his mind souvenirs that, at the sight of, he turned his hands into fists so hard that his nails dug into his skin deeply and cut through the fine organic material. He had spent over a hour almost... to explain, to be almost delirious in trying to talk about his feelings to Augur, without thinking of what this one would think, or just if he listened to him; he simply did not care at all, he only needed to say this, and to something or someone else than to the four walls of his chamber that had always been quietly listening to him. But which, on the contrary to Augur, had never answered anything, had never dared to oppose some logical arguments to his delirium. Liam had spoken rapidly, the words left his throat, they were just gone, he just needed to get it out, he even not cared of doing or not complete sentence, sometimes it was just part of words... He only wanted that this lump in his throat and chest disapeared. And to the quickly said sentence that he had  
murmured - he whispered to himself, while pacing a small sqare of five meters long - that in his love there was nothing human, nothing carnal... no, no, no carnal desire... To what Augur had answered jokingly that it was pretty normal since there were not much things on Da'an to love in a carnal way. And suddenly Liam had ceased scpeaking... so suddenly that it had hurt his throat, the words had stayed there in a greater lump than what he had come here to destroy by talking about it. Then for the first time in his life Liam had wanted with all his heart, as much as he loved Da'an, to kill someone. He had violently, wordlessly leapt at Augur throat and thrown him across the room. After he had simply left the lair, leaving there a fortunatly unharmed but totally scared and shocked Augur. Just before leaving Liam had yelled that no one could understand him, that no Humans could ever understand what he was feeling, and that if no one could understand him... then no one would see  
him live.  
  
And he had returned to his home with still in his blood that red rage that swirled inside his mind, and this desire of comitting suicide, to let life slipping out slowly from him, to put an end to this soft torture, stronger than ever it had been in the past. He had taken a knfe that night and was ready to slide it accross his skin, cutting through the veins. There was already a small cut on his left forearm when the global had rung. He had almost resisted the urge to answer, saying himself that this torture had to know an end, had to cease or he, himself, would cease his existence, but the though of dying... without telling Da'an all he felt for him was stronger than his will to die. He had to say Da'an some words, some whispers, that Da'an would be left to ignorance about his death made him ache inside. And it was this gesture, to answer this call, that had saved his life. Because Da'an was the only one who called, because... because the Taelon was worried about him...  
because he had to be at the Embassy early that morning and it was not in his habits to be late. Da'an had been worried about him, Da'An was preoccupied about him... This only thought brought back a slight, but ever so weak smile to his lips. But the Companion had already seen the tears' tracks on his cheeks. Liam had simply said to be tired and Da'an had not believed him but neither had he asked for more explanations as if he thoughts that his protector's private life had nothing was none of his business. But it was too late, Liam had seen the sincere feelings of caring in these blue eyes... of this blue bluer than the bluest of blue that each times were making his heart beat growing up a little more and to which he could never get tired of looking at... When Da'an had finally cut the other end of the line, bringing with him the promise that Liam would come immediatly at the Embassy, the young man had fallen in his bed and had buried his face in his pillow to cry in joy.  
  
This. This was before Da'an would betray him. Before Da'an would... use him and... and try to harm him... to kill him... Before his Companion and Augur would wound him with that fatal hit. Augur's betrayal he had seen it coming, he was almost waiting for it, it had hurt, yes, but not as much as had did... what Da'an had done to him. Of this evening he remembered ever gestures and every words with most cruel of precision and details. He had gone to the Embassy, his eyes wet with tears and the words that were on the edge of his trembling lips... the fateful words that, he had sowrn, he would never again risk to pronounce... he had whispered them, quietly crying, alone in the darkness, tightly wrapped, but still cold, in his blankets. After all of these calumnies he had said Da'an, all these things that lied in an almost obscene way about his feelings for him... but especially, especially after that fatal wound, it seemed to him that life was not worth to be lived. Da'an had  
planted a knife in his back, had turned it in the wound and had violently got it out, leaving him screaming, twisting, moaning and in incredible pain on the ground. It was exactly how he had felt at that moment.  
  
And it had just been getting worse after. His love for Da'an had stayed the same, and would stay the same despite what everyone might try to do. He had, evidently vaintly, tried to get himself to hate Da'an, to hate it with the same strenght that he loved him with, to hate him for his crimes against humanity, for betraying the Resistance, from betraying his trust, to hate him for not returning his love, to repeat the words so often in his head that it would finally mean nothing at the end, only a following of syllables. But his efforts had been fruitless... evidently. He felt like a paradox to himself, like if he, himself and his worst enemy were trapped in the same body and at that second when he had realized that, he had understand that he would need to live with his love for his alien Companion. Nothing was important to him now, he stayed hooked to that fight at the Resistance's sice, a fight that he knew was lost, was hopeless anyway, but he had to hold on something, to  
stay alive at least. It was rare that he slept during the night; no, most of the time, when he had the occasion to rest, he grasped the sheets, until ripping them apart sometimes and he cried. Now, yes, now things had changed. Because some weeks ago, Da'an had suffered the ffects of his dependence to Kryss, this powerful and merciless taelon drug, taelon in concept, human in origin and facture, but always alluring in thoughts... And in his eyes, in the eyes of Da'an when he had approached him, he had read, no hatred, no sadness, what would have caused him to be infinitely sad himself, but fear... Fear of him, Liam Kincaid, that loved him more than everything in the world, more than life itself, who would never have done any harm to him, who would have given his life ten times for his own... And he had frozen there, standing in the middle of the room, looking at the being that he crazily loved as Da'an was fightin for breathe and finally collapsed on the floor, image of the  
sufferance itself.  
  
And the very strange mix of images, memories, sounds, words, feelings, emotions and thought completly interior knew a brutal end when Liam's feelings threatened to become too painful inside, when he felt that he was going to cry again... These eyes that had cried too much. This, this sensation that left him with anahcing throat when he swallowed it difficultly and the always so cold and commanding voice of his, fortunatly only genetical, father brought him to reality as surely as would have done icy water thrown in his face to awake him. "Major." They were the only ones in the hall now, Liam's thoughts had apparently forced his feet to stop, and then the group of volunteers was way ahead of them. Da'an was still at the same place, his arms placed on the guardrail, his eyes fixed in something faraway. But these same blue eyes lowered and travelled through the hall to finally stop on the twos ingle inoccupants of the large room, that now seemed to a flushing Liam as empty as  
it had, seconds before, seemed too full. And the young man had to lower the eyes back on the ground, in a too submissive fashion and the motion of his head being a little too stiff to remain unnoticed.  
  
The Taelon fixed him during a short moment with that soft, almost ironic gaze, that he could allow himself to look at Liam when this one was sufficiently away for his comfort, a look that Liam was forced to ignore, despite of its kindness, too occupied that he was to hide the red on his cheeks. Never he had been surprised by the object of his dearest wishes and of his always thoughts. It was the very first time. Tears almost came up to his eyes, but he could not permit himself to cry now, not in public, not in front of Sandoval and Palmer, and especially not in front of Da'an. He lowered the head and his hesitating eyes were fixed, were locked on the repeating motion of his shoes, until his chamber's door closed behind him. Only after he had turned the small key in the lock and had heard the reassuring noise of the hold locking system of the wooden door, he could relax a little and let himself slide, his back against the door, until reaching the ground, where he let his head  
fall on his knees.  
  
Here as well, the luxury was somewhat too present, he remarked as he raised the head back after regaining an emotional state that, though it could be qualified of stable, was acceptable if compared to many thing else he had passed through in the past years. Same thing than in the hall. He sighed audibly and walked toward the french doors at the other end of the room, that opened on the balcony. The so-said balcony was all made of a white material, probably stone, that was so hard on his yes that he had to put his hand before them, intending to protect his delicate pupils. Outside, there was such a heat, a heat that he had not had the time to really feel during the three seconds he had needed to walk by the five meters that had separated his shuttle from the hall in which they had entered; but here, right under the sun, the light and heat of the star was hitting the shoulders almost like a weight on the shoulders. The temperature inside had to be artificially cooled, he  
thought. And it was just nine in the morning, what would it be at noon or just during the whole afternoon? He briefly went back inside, escaping for one moment to this heavy and humid heat, took off the leather he never went out without, or seemingly, kicked off his shoes and socks and undid all the button of his shirt, opened it freely to the cool air. Then he slowly circled the chamber with his eyes. And for the first time saw the collection of bottle inside a cupboard. Thinking that he would find there what he needed for the moment, he paced through the chamber and opened the cupabord, that was filled with alcohol product of all kind, and not the gentlest, he thought, with this time feeling some admiration. "At least, I'm gonna have a pretty cool evening, and all paid..." he said to himself loudly.  
  
Liam filled the half of a glass with scotch and his little something of somewhat more substancial, he once more stepped onto the balcony, this time mentally and physically prepared to this surrounding heat that would attack every single inches of his body as soon as he would have the half of a toe out of the inside coolness. As he had thought it would, the lump of tears he held in his throat disapeared with the first gulp of liquid but the little devils that were slowly working to break his heart, pieces by pieces, taking it away, were only blurred, taken away for a moment, for only a single moment; no, the sufferance woult not vanish. In fact, he knew that it would only be worse the next morning, after only momentarily faded away.  
  
His gaze travelled on the horizon line. Far away, there was the ocean and then closer a cliff that he knew ended by a white sand beach, and between him and the cliff, there was nothing else then the jungle, virgin, unviolated, completly disordered, a wild beauty. Even the so rich owner of the place had not managed to gather enough things to push it away completly. And each days the jungle was coming closer... Liam permitted himself a smile, it was more and more like this that he saw their fighting against the Taelons: each bit of ground they won was at its turn becoming another battlefield, that they would ever need to fight for, to give their skin for them, and they lacked strenght; it was like if someone would ahve tried to keep that jungle away with a simple fence. Not only impossible but also ridiculous to get as an idea. But as long as there is life there is hope right? And if life itself kept no hope... Then... then he could jump, over the guardrail, and no one would  
ever hear about Liam Kincaid, or the one who pretended to be him, or anyway not after the shockwaves that it would send through the medias... And since the number of people that would be increasingly happy at the announce of his death, even more of his suicide, surpassed greatly the number of people who would cry for him, he did not see why jump overshould make him hesitate. But the hesitation perhaps came from the fear of the deception. Because that thin number of people who would be sad of his depart, they waited for so much, that they thought only he could give them, they waited for so much that in fact he doubted that he could give and do what they hoped he would give and do. And deceive his father, Ha'gel, that had put in him all of his hopes, to let go of the inextricably intertwined destiny of their three races, to let go all of what Zo'or, like Ha'gel, like Vorjack, like Sandoval... he swallowed difficultly... like Da'an were fighting for... Survival. If he denied  
the gift of life and jumped down then... then all a people was condemned. It could appear terribly selfish, but he knew it, he knew it in all simplicity, that everything should at the last second rest on his shoulders, this myth of the being that would save them all, and of which... Da'an had spoken to him very rarely, only, between two sentences, making him understand easily that the Taelon hoped so much that he was that being they had waited for, that their quest for survival would perhaps be completed.  
  
His glass was placed down on the guardrail. He was looking at it, concentrating strongly, trying to imagine, to see what this to be shattered object represented, what it meant, what its existence or destruction meant to the universe, and what... what would happen if he just pushed it gently beyond the edge? Would the good working of the universe change? No, no, surely not. Then why, his death would change something? All proportion kept, his own life would represent the same thing that represented the existence or the destruction of this glass. Then why would he risk, would he spend his whole life to suffer uselessly?  
  
Everything, everythings else than Da'an. No, not Da'an. He forced himself to keep him out of his thoughts. No. He did not want to turn the knife in the vivid wound into his flesh.  
  
The tase of his own blood filled his mouth, as he bit his own lips in rage. But what could he do against it? He could never take Da'an out of his thoughts... He could do nothing.  
  
Renée was walking on the beach, dressed at all with what was more looking like a piece of lingerie than a bathing suit, even a very tight, form fitting one, but the young man knew enough about her to tell that it was probably her bathing suit anyway. He knew she liked to wander about like this. She liked to see how she could influence and use men. He was not even sure that that lady down there was Renée Palmer, but he doubted to be wrong, seeing the blond hair, now tied on the top of her head. The young represantative of Doors International, if it were her, was doubtlessly going to show all married men around the first part of her `to what point could she wear the less pieces of clothing possible while keeping it politically correct' show. And with some luck for the single ones watching, it would perhaps last on during the whole 36 hours that they would spent here. He shook his head, he had abrely had time to take off his shoes, find something quite good to drink and to come  
out on the balcony that already she was - and they had arrived in the same shuttle - showning around. Poor Renée. And it was her that told everyone who was willing to listen that she did not really care of physical beauty. Like most of his interior monologues on the subject of his friend, Renée Palmer, or the paradox itself, this one ended as well by `Oh well... It's Renée'.  
  
Another glass came to rest beside his own, accompanied by an arm, which was itself linked to a body that revealed itself to be the one of his colleague, agent Sandoval. Their chambers was aside, they had to share the same balcony then. His eyes widened somewhat in surprise and amazement, seeing that the so formal protector had let go of his usual severe dressin to adopt clothes that were but some things similar to his own; though he had kept his shirt closed and had only rolled up the sleeves, to give some fresh air to his skrill... who knew what was in the head of this man? He seemed at ease there. Normal, he had been born and had grown up in a place like this, reminded him bitterly the logical, very small, part of his mind.  
  
The silence reigned during minutes, as usual between them, there was the tension that they both knew they were the worst of enemies. When finally Sandoval started what he visibly wished to be the beginning of a talk. "You don't look well Kincaid..." he said, the lips almost still touching the edge of his glass from which he had just taken a small sip.  
  
The one called took a long gulp of his own then slowly turned toward the man that carried inside him a part of his own genetical code, a cold and tired look floating in his eyes. "And may I ask what have pushed you to become suddenly social and friendly to the point of worrying of my state of mind?" The response had been bitter, sharp, almost like this icy tone of voice that was Zo'or's. Sandoval himself felt his eyes widening slightly, just somewhat, imperceptibly and unseeingly. That was not alike Kincaid. Far away from the nice and almost too gentle to be true personality of the young man he worked with since years.  
  
They broke the eyes contact and Liam's superior came as well to rest in arms folded against the guardrail, their elbows were separated by some inches only. "So... for whom did she leave you?" he asked. Ronald knew too well that look in these greenish eyes, to have seen it often before, not only in his own but also in the eyes of about every colleague or man and woman he had ever known at least once. One of the few things that he had refused to let go of with the apparition into the equation of a CVI without the bound of the motivational imperative was observing, the capacity to watch, to notice every little details in someone's acting. And something he could fearlessly qualify himself to be a specialist was doubtlessly the observation of his fellows, Humans, as Taelons, as Jaridians. Body language was one and the same to everyone. Sometimes, he even happened to thought that he could foresee what they would do, what their next move would be; he had once believed that he could  
know them betther than themselves could ever have thought of, just by looking for some seconds into their eyes. Fot the kind of work that he was now forcing to do to keep his own butt safe, it was on the most useful qualities he had ever found to his implant.  
  
The words just ached as they left Liam's throat. "No... No... The being that I love... will never love me in return. And... I think I just realized it completly," he whispered. He could not believe, unfortunatly this thought came to him after he had finished speaking, that he was saying all of this to Sandoval. The scene in tiself was looking a bit strange. Sandoval did not use to worry about someone's private life, perhaps not even about his own - which one, for what Liam knew of it anyway, was a bit... unstable for the time being - though he looked in a particularly good mood today, then maybe it was the meaning of the small tear to his usual mask of coldness and this rarely seen aptitude to get some social life, with a Human.  
  
The implanted agent had of course seen through the light change of tone that had been clearly audible when Liam had said `the being that I love' meaning evidently that the use of the feminine was not appropriate. "It always hurts when you love him and he hates you," said Sandoval, his voice taking a surprisingly softened tone, visibly influenced, the hybrid could notice it by the slight change of attitude and the dreamy look that came upon his father's face, by a memory brought back to freshness by his implant.  
  
"He doesn't hate me. It's worse." He slowly turned toward his colleague, the eyes half-closed to protect them from the light that was reflecte don Sandoval's white shirt. "He fears me," he whispered the bitter sweet comment, `Like your wife must fear you wherever she is now' that almost escaped his control. He felt an incredible hatred for this man. This man that he knew was his father and that he knew as well being the worst enemy that he would ever find, not only his enemy, but the enemy of all the human race. Then he could feel nthing but hatred for him. Though he was sorry of it. But as many things, they were like this reasonlessly, but were like this to stay the same.  
  
His interlocutor smirked, though that Liam was left to wonder if he definitely had touched Sandoval's heart, if he still possessed something else than black ice there, or if the smirking was simply due to the sip of strong alcohol he had just swallowed. "It's worse, I must admit." They both stayed silent during a long moment, some minutes that were counted down by the asian protector's CVI slowly, echoing in his mind; almost touching the horizon, gray, dark, dangerous looking, though welcome if one held dear that they brought with them some coolness in the rain, clouds were coming their way, the wind had already begun to be felt by the two of them. And then, "First lost love?"  
  
Kincaid looked fixingly at the bottom of his deceivingly almost emptied glass, then answered, "No, last one." The man at his side nodded gravely, understanding quite well where the other wanted to lead the way. Liam had had no hesitaions in saying that, all in one. He knew that Sandoval would not care much more of his death than of the one a the few thousands of innocent people he had killed in his years of services for the Companions, so why waste time to hide his intentions to him...  
  
"The fall isn't going to kill you. Well, maybe yes, but maybe no. If you want to take the risk of spending all the remaining of your life paralyzed, you can always try that way. In your place, I'd cut my wrist, it would be less risky for you to stay alive." On that and without further words Sandoval turned his back at him and started to walk away slowly, making his way toward his own room. Liam stayed right there, more amazed than anything else, wondering if Sandoval would leave it to his own judgement, though helped by these `best wishes'. If it was the case, then well... why should he be surprised? All of his thinking about his genetical parent were perfectly justified, he simply wanted to push him a little further over the final cliff, helping him through the last step. Charming. A cold and joyless smile curled his lips and he realized the truth in what of his implanted colleague had talked him about. The fall was way too risky, cut his wrist would have, though the  
meaning of a long and painful death, a better chance of success. But Sandoval was visibly not done with him yet. "Keep in mind Major, that perhaps if you're just a piece in their schemes, you are yet able to turn out the fate in your favor aren't you?" And with a astonsihingly convincing stare that his eyes exchanged with Liam's amused ones, this one had turned the head to look at him over his shoulder. "That's what I keep saying to myself everytimes the idea comes to my mind. And it saved me quite often," he threw the young protector's way before re-entering his own appartments. Liam apermitted himself a smile, perhaps a little less sarcastic this time.  
  
Sandoval had played his part of the game like a master. He had many times heard about what his father had told him, but between realizing it himself and being told so by his enemy, there was a big difference. Sandoval had to need him still. And despite all his desperate thoughts about Da'an could put in his head, he had to stay alive, simply to prove to the universe that he could defeat its torments... A small grin on his lips, he swallowed what was left of liquor.  
  
No, no, for the moment, he would stay alive. As long as there is life, there is hope, and though that the future was for him a quite hopeless nightmare, he could permit himself to dream, it cost nothing to dream, to let himself being absorbed by these long day-dreamings session that brought him the thoughts of `what could have been'... and spend the last few moments of the remaining of his life to Da'an's side was for him the best he had yet to do. He could at least continue to watch him restlessly, silently, hidden, to imagine, to see himself taking his hands and saying what never he had dared to say in the past... He briefly closed his eyes, returned inside, closed the french doors and after he had undressed completly and had kept on only his underwear, he thrown himself on the bed - just soft and cool enough for that temperature - and he was soon silently asleep, gone for the land of dreams for the rest of the afternoon. This evening would be very long and would last  
until late at night, if not in the morning. And he needed to sleep a little.  
  
Da'an was today quite curiosly melancholic and Zo'or could not avoid noticing such a thing since he and his parent were sharing the same chamber. The American Companion was sitting in an armchair, in the natural form that more and more often, even in the presence of Humans, he allowed himself to wear, a knee against his chest with his arm around his leg, the other leg was simply hanging, not reaching the floor yet; the eyes vague, the head half-turned toward the window, Da'an seemed asleep, though everyone who knew him well enough could tell that he was doing anything but sleeping. The eyes now closed, Zo'or felt the conscience of the older Taelon being softly ans slowly dragged away by his reverie in which he plunged himself deeply these days especially... when he was facing that volunteerly accepted lack of Kryss. And oh yes... his body lacked the substance. And Zo'or knew it, and he knew how difficult and hard it had to be for Da'an and how he admired him to be able to  
bear the pain in this calm and peaceful way of his when everyone else would have screamed and thrown himself against the walls in pain, because wearing one's self off of Kryss, like Da'an attempted to do, was extremely painful. But this, that he admired him for this strenght of mind, Zo'or would never ever tell him.  
  
It was a decided fact like were in politics many decided facts, accomplished, already done almost, assured, impossible to dicuss. Many of them were not aware of the meaning of these rules, of why they were what they were, but they kept themselves cautiously away from disobeying to these rules, because if they did they would see that power, that will they could have on other beings dissolve in their hands. They did not seek to understand the rules, even not to try to comprehend them, but they followed them. And Zo'or could not avoir this, and then was of no exception to this rule. There were many things like his admiration for his parent that he hid, yes many. Most of them were about himself, but also about his feelings. Because to rule his kind - and that he knew, he knew what kind of sacrifice would be needed from his part if he wished to satisfy his desire for his people - he could not allow himself to be weak, he could not allow himself to be anything but emotionless, he  
could not allow himself to show the rift in the shell, never ever. And with this idea in mind, he had bit by bit become cold. On the exterior anyway. Inside he was still the same, he had not changed that much, he still was very young.  
  
And as a very young person himself he loved. Of a simple love, never to be passionate, simply... existing. It was another of these facts that were there no one really knew why, but they where. The only difference was that he was willingly submitting himself to the influence of this fact. At the beginning, it had been difficult, very difficult to accept, that he loved a Human, it had been hard to accept though he had learned to face it. He had even refused this love in the hardest moments, but he had fastly had to surrender in front of the evidence.  
  
He advanced and stepped across the balcony, outside. It was a view that he liked. Earth could be so beautiful sometimes. He saw the virgin and wild forest under his feet and gaze, meters and floors below. A rare frank smile curled his lips slightly, though very few could have told so since he was now in his natural form. A soft, cool wind was starting to blow. He stared at the horizon, covered by clouds that seemed to be strangly humming and coming toward them. A storm would soon hit this island, he thought, his smile widening. Though the invitation had appeared to him despicable, stupid and ridiculous - and it was the case, because Da'an and he were not considering themselves like... personalities, but this was another sacrifice of an Ambassador's public life - he did not regret now that Da'an had pushed him to accept this, convincing him that it would be of a good support to their image. No... this place was luxuriant, beautiful... and almost... like Taelon, though never  
as wild and wonderful as their home planet would be.  
  
Zo'or felt himself being touched by this melancholy in the room. Perhaps would he have the chance?... A little something only would be sufficient, a simple and brief contact between their hands and everything would be said, yes, all would be said.  
  
But Sandoval was his enemy, the most dangerous enemy, worst than T'than could ever be to him, because his implant was the closest being to him, and had his own judgement now. And not only his own, personal enemy, but the enemy of all his kind as well, because he had for only wishes to destroy them all and this Zo'or knew of. He had read it in the depths of his eyes, he could see the hatred in his eyes everytimes he gazed at him, the feeling of hate carefully hidden behind that mask of obedience and servility, but that only appeared deeper to eyes that were used to see it. But he was not really... deceived, or desperate, or sad about this. Because everything for him had always been deception and despair in the life and he had finally managed to, if not to comprehend, at least to accept that life, that was his own and the only one he would ever have, he had finally accepted that where other beings could live the kind of life like in the stories that his parent told him of  
about the world, he could never live a simply happy and normal life. He had not been given this choice. He loved him simply and he knew perfectly that he would never be loved in return; perhaps it was a little sad, but sadness was one of these feelings he prefered to keep deeply buried inside him. He walked to the edge of the balcony, where the guardrail prevented any falling, and looked below as he caught a brief glimpse of something or someone darked than the usual ivory color.  
  
Sandoval that, as usual seemed to be watching out for his prey, like a dangerously hungry animal. The implant was a floor below his only and the chamber next to Zo'or's having no balcony of itself he could see him. He had rarely seen him looking so... relaxed, without the usual severe attire that he wore and had worn everytime Zo'or had ever seen him, even in period of times that were a lot too warm for that kind of clothing. But there, today he was not playing his role of protector but the one of a simple companion, though that, evidently, he would not leave the Synod Leader's side for more than thirty seconds this evening.  
  
The man was nice looking, for a Human, Zo'or surprised himself by thinking so. And the Taelon knew that he had no... mate, or at least no permanent one, though he liked to spend all the nights he had to himself with women that he paid for their services... personal and sexual in nature. It was sad somehow, live through this life had to appear quite meaningless to him. Unless that his will to defeat them was the only thing that kept him alive, unless he survived only with the thought of the victory in mind. This would be a quite sad option. Because Zo'or would kill him before he could ever triumph. With regrets, yes, with many regrets, but how many things had he commited during this longliving life of his that he had never come to regret afterward? Not much... not much. It was part of the sacrifices to make, he thought. But more he was watching Sandoval, more he could believe he was seeing someone else under the perfect little implant and protector mask, the man... the man  
that he had been before the Taelons, before this war, before he, Zo'or. And the idea of knowing this man... better, appear to him to be... tempting, for the moment.  
  
Some meters below, his implant, as he had to be feeling watched, turned the head toward him. Their eyes locked. It was the very first time that Zo'or permitted his protector to see and to observe him in his natural form in a such... attentive fashion. To judge by the fugitive look that crossed the Human's features, Sandoval was... amazaed and... admirative. Zo'or almost `blushed' as the Human were saying, when he saw the so briefly lightning of admiration that travelled through his protector's eyes. But he was less in astery of himself like this, in this form and skilled as he was, Sandoval would soon be able to see what Zo'or wanted to keep as a secret, he could perhaps already read him like an open book. And the Taelon had to turn the eyes away in first, as the wind became more violent and that small drops of water started to cut through the air.  
  
The implanted agent fixed still during some seconds the place where Zo'or had vanished. What did he think he had seen on this face? Was he wrong? Yes maybe he was awfully wrong. Or maybe not. But these curious interrogations about what he believed he had seen in the eyes of Zo'or was of a kind that one lkept to himself if he held dear to his life, especially with a persona like this Taelon. He only returned inside when the rain started to be hard on his skin and the questions were far away from disapearing from his now shattered mind.  
  
The evening spread itself on a lenght of time that appeared to Da'an out of measure, as well as the complete lack of interest it did awake in him. This uninterrupted string of people, this series of greetings, empty people, meaningless gestures... All this fatigue that surrounded, overhlemed him, like a blanket that would tightly be wrapped around his body, all of these dark thoughts convinced him to join the small group of Taelon that had taken the good decision of gathering and distancing themselves from the Humans. They were all there, Zo'or had recently joined them as well... A young diplomat, stranger to Da'an, quietly whispered through the web of mental communication that his compassion for the human people had known here its complete and final saturation.  
  
His presence yet remaining unnoticed, he stepped away fro their group. They did not understand him, the could not understand him, could not understand what they referred too between themselves as his weakness, this attraction for this drug that destroyed him from the inside little by little and they despised him simply because admitting their lack of comprehension of his actions would be too ashaming, he was one of their fellows and member of the Commonality after all. And they did not realize how futile and childish was such a judgement, but they themselves decided of how live their lives, they had their own will after all. Da'an sighed and moved closer to the window; only hours before a storm had raged through this island, but nothing completly abnormal for this region of the world and at this time of the year, then they had nothing to be worried about. And this tropical storm had left no dammages to the buildings, though many trees had been ripped off the ground, the  
gardens were almost destroyed, but there was such a beauty in this disorder, a beauty that the Humans refused to understand, they prefered their perfect order to what the nature judged wise to do. Earlier in the day, during only some second, he could have thought to be on Taelon again, during these few seconds when he had closed his eyes, returned on the planet where he had been born and that he loved so much, toward which he felt something like adoration... The noise of the wind making this gently, though somewhat worrying, hissing noise, the rain hammering on the plants and the human buildings, the energy of the storm that, as a Taelon, he had been able to feel like his own. But soon he had reopened his eyes and had found himself in this placid world, alone, in this chamber so human in design, with for only company his child that hated him, and soon he had felt himself being dragged away by this wave of melancholy that crushed all of his reason on its passage.  
  
All that he hoped was to die. He wanted to die. Da'an no longer found joy in life, but this small sprarkle of enjoyment that brought him this little, magic powder... Kryss... and after this it was finished, gone, vanished, ephemeral as he felt his own life to be. They despised him for that, he knew it, all his fellows despised him for his weakness, the weakness of acceptationa nd addiction, because he had accepted the Kryss from a Human, he had accepted to be an equal to them as he was dependent of one of them. But they had no idea, of what it was, the force, this force, this addiction, this object of attraction that this sustenance was for him. When his organism started to lack the drug, it was firtly like the constant falling of a drop of water on his forehead, something that his bothering but that one ends by accept as nothing can be done to remove it. Then... then the repeated falling of the droplet of water brought to him a wild pain inside his head and inside his mind.  
After this he got the impression and feeling that his desire for it had not been completly fullfilled, it was at this point already constant and many of his fellows would have given up the perpetual fight he was doing. But the droplet continued to fall and one morning, he awakened and he thought he was dying. And usually it was at this moment, he had never been able to go much further before taking the substitute, this thing by what their healers had replaced Kryss when they had seen, too late for him, that the internal cravings it brought could be fatal. Da'an was already too far, almost out of reach, for his addiction to be healed. The substitute permitte dhim to live, yes. But the craving was still there, it only made one's mind dismiss it as out of concern. But he could not bear it anymore, the temptation was so high and this magic substance was so easy to get, he just had to hold out his hand and he would be given what could satisfy his increasing needs... It was the  
easiest solution, run away from his problems instead of turning around and facing them. He would resist, he would be strong, he would show strenght, like Ma'el had been strong to live so much years amongst humanity far separated from his kind, strong like all his species that fought against their decay... Yes, yes he would fight against that addiction, his weakness, among so much others, he would fight. And he would win.  
  
Or... Or perhaps run further, Until he could no longer run, his back against the wall. Until he had reached his end, until he would know peace. The alien closed his eyes and allowed himself to slide toward this state nearing meditation, half-way between awakening and unconscienceness so that his body would answer the different physical stimulus that his senses could receive but that his mind could leave the shell momentarily. His closed fists that, while he was dealing with himself and these dark thought, opened, relaxed, then tensed up again calmed completly and his now unmoving hands fell back to his sides.  
  
This short moment of calm brought him a serenity toward the decision that a part of himself had taken since long already, but that the logical and strong part of his mind had had no ceases to push away. But now his strenght was fianlly to be defeated by his need for resting. He came back completly inside himself, noticing the groups of Humans that filled the reception room that was going under his feet, his perceptions brought to his ears this view with a new clearness, a new freshness... The soft words of their original language were carried through the air until reaching his position. His fellows were still talking, certainly against the Humans. Zo'or himself had felt the need to isolate himself forthe time being and had found his salvation and calm sitting, on a chair, one slender hand travelling on the woods of the humanly shaped opening, his eyes were vague, he seemed far away from this planet. The agent Sandoval approached him and whispered something to him, near his  
ear, to what Zo'or answered by a short, discreet nod.  
  
Da'an knew that he should not complain about the situation of untrust that existed between him and his own protector, once his friend, if he compared it to the constant war of power that was raging between Zo'or and Sandoval. Thir were equals in power and if they had taken the time of doing so, they would have seen that an alliance between the two of them would have been useful to both, thought Da'an, a fine smile curving his lips. And by the links that bound him to the Commonality and to the entirety of the Taelon race, but particularly through this link more... intimate in nature that he shared with Zo'or, he could easily perceive that feeling... that strange feeling to say the least, especially if spoken of these two, that was directed toward his implant, protector and enemy. His child was young and still, though he would have vehemently denied it, naive about many things that he had not experienced in the past.  
  
Would it ever be possible for him and Liam to have again a relationship based on mutual trust? No, he did not believe so. Maybe if the feelings was returned then the creation of a more intimate link between them would be pleasing... for Da'an, but the Taelon knew - or thought he knew - the feelings that the young hybrid had for him, untrust, anger, even sometimes hate, or fear. He had never openly manifested these feelings, but Da'an knew of their existence, though Liam took a great deal of precautions to hide to his Companion's attention anything else that was not his professional life and even more to protect and keep for himself his feelings. But only logic was necessary to come to this conclusion. Liam worked for the Resistance now, not for his protection. The Taelons' interest in this conflict were only a bothering to him and when time would come, he would certainly work with others of his kind to their complete and definitive destruction. But of course, Da'an would not  
and could not allow him to do this.  
  
During a long time he had that that a trust, that a friendship of some sort had grown between himself and the hybrid. At a moment, only a so short lenght of time, Liam had told Da'an that he was the only one to whom he could tell and reveal everyhting about himself and the Taelon had whispered back that it was the samething for him; but all of these beautiful moments had vanished now, had fled away, shattered, that had been burned, destroyed in Liam's soul when he had rained on him all of these insults and reproaches, the young man had spat his words, thrown them in his face, these words that were to mark Da'an's cosncience for the remaining of his life... And now, now that more than ever, Da'an would have needed the young man he had once known that was able to be a confident, to simply listen to what he had to say without judging and criticizing any of his actions... this simple thing was refused to him, but after all, he thought bitterly, he was only a Taelon and his  
destiny would not change many things, his life would not weigh much in the balance... no matter if it ended in one millenia or if it ended tonight.  
  
His power and will within the Synod was reducing day after day as Zo'or's was increasing, forcing everyone to surrender to this controlling thought wherever did it go. No, no, his child would be easily able to take care of the survival of their kind alone. Anyway, Zo'or needed his help no longer.  
  
A hand suddenly entered in his range of sight, near his body and he recognized the owner of this flesh only too late, not before he could prevent him from grasping his arm, making him shiver and almost jerk back in surprise and fear. He tilted the head and locked eyes with the ones of his protector, Major Liam Kincaid. Stepping back he sharply broke every physical contact between them. When he looked into the eyes of the young man, the Taelon was surprised to find there a certain sadness, in fact much more than certain... But Liam turned the head away and his eyes came back to their usual normality of a peaceful and non-aggresive glance. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Had there been some... sorrow in this voice, in this excuse that in itself was meaningless, or had Da'an invented it all again? The attitude of his protector seemed strange, if not even mysterious, but it was of no importance to him, these troubles were doubtlessly not concerning him. He was surely  
preoccupied by his... other affairs, thought Da'an, his eyes filling with a dark glimmer with the idea...  
  
It was of a cold voice, so cold that he had difficulties to recognize here his own, that Da'an gave to Liam his leave, taking his own. "I will return to my chamber Major." Nothing else was said and the Companion turned on his heels without waiting would it have only been an answer, or a nod, or at least a sign of understanding, though he prefered to ignore what he thought he would have seen in his protector's eyes. But if at this moment, he had stopped and had turned in his steps, he would have seen Liam turning away, toward the window, wiping a tear away with the back of his fingers.  
  
The young man joined his own quarters upstairs only seconds after Da'an's departure - though after assuring to himself that his path would not cross the Taelon's - and after having, of course, informed agent Sandoval as the protocol forced him to. The stairs appeared to him difficult to climb up, perhaps because he felt of that burden on his shoulders. Or maybe because his body had simply already given up the fight that his mind was still keeping... for hope... for hope that perhaps...  
  
Da'an had pushed him away, Da'an had feared him, the being that beyond everything and everyone he cherished in this world hated him, despised him, feared him... And now, in this moment, the very simple question in his mind was: Could he live, knowing that? He sighed, turning the key in its lock, locking his chamber's door behind him. Nobody would enter and trouble, or worse reveal, what he was ready to commit. He would be completly lonely even in dying and in this calm and silent tranquility, he already felt the death's coming upon him, like a icy hand gripping his soul and starting to pull it out from his body. A slightly sad smile slid its way on his features, to the thought that he could never told it to DA'An, that he loved him, but it was futile more than anything anyway was it not?  
  
He walked toward the table where he had put his glass previously filled with strong alcohol and wordlessly, he lifted it to eyes level and suddenly releasing it, he let it fall down onto the ground. The small object exploded litterally in some big fragments of glass, with cutting edeges, firtunatly not in that glassy powder that he could not have used anyway. Sandoval's good thought would have been of a good augur then. Who would have ever believed that his genetical father would one day help him in something, he thought with a fine smile, this same grin filled with sadness, vaguely dreamy looking that had curled his lips up, seconds before.  
  
The drop of blood fell on the ground with that odd noise, that Liam found on the moment rather pleasant, of the rain falling on a wet ground. A little red spot colored the pure white color of the ground, then a second, and a third... The noise of the skin being ripped through by this fragment of glass seemed immense to his ears. The physical pain in itself came to his mind only in second, it was less... present than sorrow, sadness and the worst mental pain he had ever felt, this pain of the mind that gave to him that hatred from the eyes of his beloved. When he achieved the first cut, he suddely felt less sure, but he knew this feeling, the last hesitationg, the one that every person brought to try suicide would one day face; the blood was now flowing in small rivers down his wrist, and slid delicately between his fingers. The liquid was vaguely warm and Liam could almost be sure to hear the beating of his heart and live that were slowly decreasing in rythmic, like blood,  
this precious liquid, was escaping from his body, soon to be a shell without heart and mind.  
  
But he stopped suddenly, like the fragment of glass was ready to once more enter and cut through his skin for a second time, just under the blood-filled line that he had just made there. A sigh had passed through the thin air, a sigh that he had heard through the french doors that he had left to be open. The idea of being seen slowly sank into his mind and noiselessly, very quicly, he ripped a fragment of white material from his shirt's sleeve and tied it very tightly, tearing to his throat aching from the sobs some groans of pain, around his wounded wrist.  
  
Maybe it had just been the blow of the wind in the leaves? But, stepping on the balcony, he realized that the atmosphere was of this same heat stagnant and unmoving that they had felt earlier that day, before the storm. He slowly leaned over the guardrail and thought he could make out something in the darkness, a shape, vaguely humanoid, and almost timidly glowing in the dimly lit view. Around of this form was to be projected a kind of blueish aura. And then Liam comprehended who he was observing with such attention, a Taelon, at least, though he was unable to put a name on the shadow, now disapearing behind a plant, not being used to see them in this form, but more often with their `human mask' on. A Taelon that was running in the night, that passed through the garden like a lightning og blue, dissimulating, almost hiding behind the trees and plants, even some times he seemed to pass through them. And finally the being of light joined the frontier of the forest and  
disapeared within in the deep and wild jungle.  
  
This distraction seemed to have made Kincaid hesitate even more than anything else would have because now his curiosity and, more important, the feeling that he was almost to call an instinct of protector was awaken and attentive. He did not know which Taelon he had just caught a glimpse of, but... through his function to Da'an, and to other beings as well, he felt a need that had becoming nearing instinct to protect them, whoever them might be. He threw a look toward the moon that shone in the sky, bug, bigger than he had ever seen it be in Washington anyway, or perhaps was it because he had never truly looked at it with all of the required attention? He lowered the eyes to the wound that was now healing, slowly, but the blood had stopped to flow down his arms and it was even beginning to tingle a little under the bandage he had made in hurry. The hesitation was too much now, he could not, not once more, slid consciously this small blade made of crystal across his wrist,  
the intention of letting the life slip away from his body had vanished from his thoughts. But still was staying there, in the background, like a very sensible wound that he would need to wisely kept untouched, if not... blood would be wasted again and again would pour from his soul. It hurt him now, to have wanted to take his own life, like the wound itself. Yes, it made his heart ache a little. But not that much, not to the point of making him regret his own acts. Even if this was the most coward, the easiest, the shortest of solution, the one that would give him rest from his task... Even through this... it seemed just right to him, just as if he judged that Liam Kincaid had seen, done and given too much already.  
  
His task... he smirked. And if he did not want it anymore, of this task; if the only thing he wanted now was to be left to live his life in all simplicity, this live that never he had the chance to truly live, to live normally, to live in peace... with the being that he loved at his sides... This thought arrived too fastly for him to prevent the rush of memories that followed. The hard emotional discharge that travelled through his nerves made his quiver and some minutes later, when the flashbakcs finally stopped, he dried off the tears from his cheeks. He walked back to the chamber and closed the french doors. And decidedly he jumped over the guardrail of the balcony and landed, two floors below on a layer of fallen plants, ripped off from the ground by the violent storm, that softened his fall. Anyway, he would not have harmed himself that much. The muscles of his legs felt a bit sore when he stood up again and caused a great, almost blinding pain to grow all over his  
spine toward his neck, but nothing that he had never sensed like immense pain before and nothing that was unbearable either.  
  
The young man turned away from the building in his back and walked a bit toward the jungle in front of him. He stopped and achieved to open his shirt, undoing the buttons, fortunatly he had already left a good part of his suit back in his quarters, leaving to himself only his pants, boxers and shirt. Liam walked onto that layer of plants, dead or soon to be that was just soft and smooth under the feet, while making his way between the trees of this tropical vegetation. They had been assured that every dangerous animals were too afrait to approach of the buildings of their host and that any of the guests could walk safely in the forest, though get lost was also possible, though not dangerous in itself, since they had been advised of the energy field that circled a certain perimeter. Not that Liam did not believe what had been said to calm their fears, but the slightly burning mark of the shakarava in his palm could only reassure him and remind him that he would be protected  
against wirtually everything on this Earth... or almost. But anyway, for the moment, he felt safe with that protection. But the Taelon that he had seen travelling through the woods in the direction that himself was taken, following the trek, was defenseless, left of the least protection. Though he could allow himself to doubt if a Taelon was in any danger on Earth anyway.  
  
The young protector walked longly, doubtlessly unconsciously looking for this Taelon that could after all get lost in the labyrinth of trees. He was now getting aware of how did the path he was following need to be taken care of to fight against the wild forest around. He had tried to leave its path to walk directly into the jungle, but after only brief seconds, he had ceased and had come back to mankind's doing. Plants and trees were masters here, Liam was not even sure to walk on the ground itself or on a layer of leaves and plants that was itself meters above the ground. And he walked, the physical action was just doing good to him. With the sweat that was freed by every visibles inches of his skin, this anger as well, seemed to be freed, this pain and anger, that constantly seemed to beat a rythm within his self. Or at least, if it was not freed, it gave the impression to, a feeling that caused him to sense himself becoming light and almost happy like he had not felt in  
months. His white shirt had almost become completly wet, what would have allowed a lucky observator, if there had been any, to watch attentively as the soft material stuck to his chest and arms. Finally he managed to get out of the jungle down to this famous beach of white sand he had seen earlier from the buildings. He had to have avoided the cliff somehow, he had just followed the trek anyway, ignoring where it would lead him ultimately.  
  
And then, he saw the ocean. Beyond that long jetty of white sand, there was water, water where streams of foam were riding, where the waves of water were collapsing on the rocks that blocked the access to the beach itself creating there a kind of bay were the water was so calm, on the contrary to the view of the furious ocean only meters beyond, that he could have thought to see there a mask of ice, so much that he was suddenly overtaken by the impulse of walking on it.  
  
Smiling as an idea came to his mind, he walked back toward the forest and then, like a little kid, he ran along the beach and thrown himself in the water. All thoughts of what he was primarily doing here - inconsciously he was still searching for that Taelon that had wandered away from the inhabited regions - vanished, to be replace by the delightning and the enojyment of the feeling of the salted and just cool enough water that his body was plunged into, that slowed his moves, that inserted itself between all of his gestures... He allowed himself to dive completly in that liquid, feeling the movements of the ground swells every where in the bay that in some palces had to reach some meters in deepness. He let the water bring him where he was needed to go, closing his eyes, managing to float on his back in the placid waters. And he finally was pushed against a rock, in the more profound water. He got a solid grip on it and managed to get on the top of it.  
  
It was relatively flat and its surface had been since long smoothed by the waves. Looking around himself and seeing only the sea, the beach being kind of blurred by a sort of fog allowing to his eyes to catch only a vague, very vague vision of the island, Liam lay on his back on the rock, lost in the ocean, giving an attentive ear to the soft sighs of the waves that were hitting repeatedly the rock beneath the point were he was... He quickly deicded to took off pants and shirt that were not hiding anything anyway, and having for only sign on himself that he came form a relatively civilized world his boxers, he lay once more on the rock, his back roughly against its surface polished by time and water. He did not close his eyes, on the contrary, he permitted himself to be drawn in the stars, his conscience being carried away by them.  
  
The day when Da'an and he had `removed' the celling of the audience chamer at the Embassy to replace it by a projection of the purple night sky that the Taelons would be seeing if their planet had not been destroyed by this stupid war was still fresh and clear as crystal in his memory. Many times this night, almost a complete year ago, his hand had brushed Da'an's lightly and both of them had simply kept silence and relished the view of the now lost night sky, in the stars, and in the contact of their bodies, unseen and to remain unknown to everybody else. Since this time, Liam had always been vexed with himself, to not having spoken at this time, this night, to not have said everything he had in his young heart; he would ahve taken tenderly Da'an's hands in his own, melted their fingers gently and simply said some short, very quick words... It would have been the most perfect moment ever, the communication between them this night was the most wonderful he had ever known  
with his once... friend, without betrayals, without anything being hidden... Just something that Da'an had told him that nor the Synod nor `Liam's special friends' were forced to learn of. It would have been so simple, quickly said, quickly done with it, the slender hands of Da'an nearing his own, in such a closeness that he could feel the heat of his energy... And this moment was forever to be jealously kept and cherished in his heart.  
  
And today, he remembered that event, that day of peace between them, this day when his love for Da'an had almost been revealed for the worst and for the best. These small, timid smile exchanged, these rapidly broken but so revealing glances, these words that he had almost said... Was all of this gone?  
  
Liam Kincaid refused to cry. He pushed back and stopped the tears that came to his eyes; he had cried enough, he had cried enough for a life-long time, he had cried during all of his short life while so much people were suffering like martyrs everywhere else in the world. This thought made him recall his own selfishness and got him out of this dark-leading trains of thoughts and of this dangerously sad slumber... He snuggled up against the rock, between two swells, then again lost himself in the stars, again living, in a matter of second, the travel that his father had gone through during years and centuries of collecting and seraching and exploring and watching carely, or the little of what he could recall. Trying, trying before everything to not be tempted by visions of Da'an, the first long and locked look they had exchanged, filled with something between fear and trust... This guilty look upon his soft and gentle features, the tears that seemed to be held back in this  
melodic voice when he had brought him back from his Atavus state; then the thousands of other fugitives stares, the fingers that brush while walking side by side, smiles or grins, sometimes cold, or warm, or timid, or triumphing, or simply... happy. All of these moments that came back to him as he had sworn he would not broke the peace that had reached him now. Da'an and this beautiful shape of blueish energy that was his, this soft and kind being, imperfect perhaps, but that worked so much for peace, that would give his life for it if the occasion were to come... Oh God... He loved him so much!...  
  
Da'an was listening to the noise of the ocean breaking up against the rocks, this noise that from far away as he was now, one could think to be hearing sighs or whispers. He understood that there was his sake. The sake for which he had been waiting since so long now... His fate, that so much time he had been refused.  
  
And after all, if he were going to die, he could do it at least in a somewhat poetic way no? He would be engulfed in the water, would see to keep it ignored form the Commonality's conscienceness, or at least not before the ultimate, final moment... He deserved this death, if even the artificial attraction of the Kryss were too hard for him to resist; his will would not last much longer, it would not last, it would not stand this long war that was at their door, their future could already be their past, that was also stained with blood, death, losses and gains... He shook his head and made of the gesture this usual way of dismissing his human facade definitely and quickly.  
  
It was a being that appeared to dreamy eyes to be made of light, glimmering and projecting strange shadows everywhere that jumped over the guardrail of a soft and graceful movement, landing on his feet, noiselessly, the silence being broken only by the soft cracking of his feet against the leaves fallen from a tree in the gardens. It had been a quite long time since he had not exerced his body like this, very long indeed. But he soon recovered the good habits that had been his. Da'an wandered during some seconds in the gardens, they were curiously reminding him of the ones he had left at the Embassy and previously on his mother planet, Taelon... He extended one hand out slowly, the moon for only witness, and touched a flower, but he was not able of controlling sufficiently his energy impulses and the poor small plant disapeared in a flame, the ashes were carried away by the soft after-storm wind and the last sparkles disapeared in the sky. The stars were shining, he  
recognized some, and other were aliens to him, not completly, but it felt as a familiar sight that would be blurred...  
  
The hands slightly parted away from his sides, allowing to a rare blow of wind shiver through his fingers, he stepped between the trees, not even taking the precaution of walking along the trek. He morphed his energy and ordered the particles that formed his beings to separate themselves sufficiently to be able to pass through anything that would block his path.  
  
The next thing that his conscienceness was brightly aware of and flashed to his eyes was that he had arrived on a beach, a long beach, of white sand. He had had to wander through the jungle though, even if his mind had been elsewhere, his body had been able to obey his second conscience. Because if he raised the head to look at the stars, he could see that they had changed, there had been a certain distance in time passing by then... one hour perhaps, perhaps more, perhaps less. It had been a so long time since he had not had the feeling of... of being free and completly alone in the world, free to do whatever he wanted to, as he felt now. He could now, far enough from everyone's eyes, take off the mask of wise and calm American Companion. For the first time in many years amongst mankind, Da'an could simply let the time flow, let the things flow. Because very soon, all of these things, these elements, these livings, would not be of concern to him, it seemed already to him  
that he was distancing from them, that a part of him was already gone onto the travel that would lead him to this other side, toward the end of the tunnel that was frontier between the two dimensions... on the other side of the wall, of the fine partition that made the difference between the universe and the void, between life and death...  
  
A smile, a last smile stroked his lips. He advanced and arrived half the way between the wilderness of the ocean and the one of the earth he stopped. Then, a as salute to the world that he was about to leave, he first flared his energy form to its full intensity and watched, delightened, as it projected his light on many meters around himself; and then, he slowly faded away and brought back the human mask, this time like a way of greeting, of acknoledging Earth and its inhabitants that, too, he was about to leave. The Humans... What would happened to them once he would be gone? Of one thought he dismissed his worries, he had and could keep the hope that Zo'or would soon begin his passage from the childhood to the age of adulthood, in a relatively short time, matter of years, of months if not. Then maybe once this time would have come he could comprehend things that sometime all leaders have to comprehend. And maybe it would not be tool late to stop the massacre that he had  
triggered? Maybe. And maybe not. But it was of no matter to him now. What was Humanity? He had given for them, for their sake, the extraordinary trust that the Synod had granted him, many of his close friends had died while wanting to serve it and what was he receiving for this today? Nothing, nothingness, but a calm death, that he would leave to Zo'or the care of making the most discreet as possible. He doubted that much would cry for him. Maybe would Liam give a tear, for the form, but nothing more. No other Humans would fake to grieve, as they said. And as for his fellows... he knew that many of them liked him like a father, he had been the mentor and the teacher of all the youngest generation of the members of the diplomatic caste. But, as the Resistance seemed to pretend they were at war, and in a war there were unsought losses.  
  
Liam was already up on one elbow and had his gaze fixed on the beach when he saw the Taelon that had almost run away from the civilization exit the forest's depths, only some meters away from where did the trek had led him. The young man was at only about thirty meters from the earth and his piercing sight could permit him to make out the delicately shaped face in the relative darkness. These delicate features that he knew by heart, or sometimes did he feel like, or that he had yet to learn about. He saw the slight grin lightening the face od Da'an when this one calmly brought back the human facade, of a white that was nearly blinding in the moonlight and that seemed to form an aura around him. He looked like a creature of a dream, a creature of a whiteness implossible to imagine that was only part of a fantasy world or a fantastic land... And maybe was it was Da'an was... A mythic beautiful creature... The young man sighed longingly. He was so beautiful, he could not cease  
to observe him, could not drop his eyes away from this form. He was like this, standing, the head lifted and the eyes looking at the sky, the hands spread apart from his body, like if he wanted to impregnate of the atmosphere, like if he were making an offering of himself to the sky. He seemed so perfect there, he seemed... at home, he did not seem alien here, faraway from it. He only seemed... perfect.  
  
Da'an walked forward until the small waves that wandered through the bay touched the tip of his feet. Then, he raised his hand to his neck, at the back of it, and in a serie of gesture that so often his hands had wished to make, in knowing that this evening approached, this famous evening, and he undid the clasp that maintained his suit tightly glued to his body like a second skin. There was a long time since he had prefered this manner, that he had discovered was more human in acting, of taking off his clothes, he prefered it to the simplicity - the always so simple, quick and completly lacking of the last fragment of poetry - of the taelon way. The clasp was in the back and once it was undone, the thick clothe that stuck to his body seemed to part, to cease to make one with his skin as a long tear was made in the back of it, like an opening, from the back of his neck to the half-way down his back. The Taelon felt with a shiver the suit slid down on his shoulders first,  
which were left bare and vaguely white-blueish under the light of the celestial watcher in the sky, then it slid down to his waist, with ondulatings, as if alike by itself and almost... sensual in a way and then pass by his hips and fall in one flat movement at his feet, finally. He stepped down from the boots, platform boots - to adapt Earth's gravity, without which they could survive, but it only asked them more of their energy to waste to maintaint their appearance without them - that were part of the reglementary diplomatic suit; now that the suit itself was forming a pool at his feet, the boots simply faded away, their support taken away. He did not care to be seen like rarely he had lacked caring for something. He did for the first time since years only what was pleasing for him to do, he was completly alone and very probably lost in nature, human nature... Da'an pushed his uniform away from himself and, once it had taken some distance in space, he could concentrate  
and make it vanish into thousands of particles with a simple thought, what he did, though he would be able to call it back from nothingness if necessary, but doubted it would be useful if what he intended to commit came true. Then he started walking along the beach, his eyes closed, his feet licked with the small waves of salted and comfortably warm water, the sand against the energy `skin' that came into contact with the ground... So many physical surroundings that, as a Taelon, it was not in his capacity to perceive, but even so, the contact was so reassuring, so more... pleasant... in some way...  
  
The young man felt a thrill go through his cool body and a definite lump form into his throat when he saw the suit that his Companion wore fall very slowly, very very slowly on the ground, leaving the Taelon in nude beauty under the moonlight, there, only some meters away from him, this body that was only the most perfect one. Da'an kept on his human appearance, what caught Liam's curiosity... His entire body was white like snow, shining like it, almost of a blinding light, it seemed that in itself it was shining, from the inside... He nearly looked like a Human from the outside. His members were slender, more slender than those of a Human, his moves, slower, suddenly a comparison came to his mind: the elves, described by Tolkien, the elves of Middle Earth. Almost like this... less human looking of course, but to Liam's eyes only the long white clothes with brodery of gold and silver were missing... He felt a certain shame to observe Da'an like this, hidden, unknowingly,  
because the Taelon could only ignore of his presence here, without so, he would never have done this, or at least not consciously. But still his eyes were travelling, eating every curves of the alien body. He was perfectly androgyn, nor male nor female or both, and Liam had to admit that his mind yet to mature would have had so tough time if he had had to put a gender on Da'an... between male and female, he could not choose, because he did not loved of a human love and then could not qualify him of being female, even only in his mind, and male was not truly true either. The Taelon had for sure different words for androgyn, hermaphroditic, female and male, but he could not use them... yet. Da'an was not Human, Da'an was more than a Human, he was... beatiful, not beautiful by his status of Taelon, but simply being... himself. Liam did not love him, he adored him. Such a love, filled every cell of his miserable organism. And Da'an was walking slowly along the sand,  
unconsciously ehibiting his body to watching eyes, however these eyes would tell themselves to be nothing but respectuous and chaste.  
  
The water seemed cold first, simply cool then, and after his body had normalized its energy, had adapted to the change of temperature, it was simply warm and comfortable. Step by step he advanced, his eyes were fixed in front of him, but he could not see the ocean in front of him, that went further that every eyes could see, he did not see anything. He saw... but what did he see after all? He could perceive, through fog, like if blurred, faraway, he saw smiles, hands that brushed against his, words, insults, accusations, long speeches... every of this merged together... in his mind, all of these feelings, all of these souvenirs intertwined together in a deep chaos. He slowly lifted his arms away from his sides, like an adieu to the world, an embrace open to death, an invitation to the phantom, this mythic creature with the long, black clothe, without face but only bones, to come and take him away in her scrawny arms to bring him where he now was to belong. The head thrown  
back, he was watching the stars now, it was so sad that he could not have looked at theem more clsoely before departing; and his eyes lost in their mazes, he shivered when the water reached his waist as he lost his human facade. The ground, the sand that was forming strange form of clouds when touched, was gently, softly slopping down and would lead him to the point where he would have no more chances, where the water would surround him, from everywhere, on every sides, and then... then would begin, this slow and volunteer suffocation. He could attract to him and use every particles of energy of every gas, what were the Humans calling breathing, but in a liquid environment, he would never be able to survive more than one minute or two, even perhaps less. Suddenly, everthing that surrounded him seemed to gain a quite terrifying side, the slow, glitter sounding movement of the water that moved around his body, the waves that slammed softly against his lower chest, the black,  
almost inked color of the liquid, source of life, a black so... so glimmering that it seemed to absorb everything to never give it back, and the scene lightened by the black night sky, the stars that seemed to watch him with desaprobing stares... And he thought to all individuals he would leave behind... The water reached the middle of his chest, but despite his fear, overhleming his fear, this sudden fear of death, there was this feeling of liberation of invitation toward death, to follow it, to be guided by it; and he continued forward, to place down, despite the grounds swells, a foot after the other on the white soft sand, his walking slowed with each second by water. His arms had also been engulfed in water, not seconds ago, he was about twenty meters away from the earth, and even if he had wanted it, he had no longer the courage neither to step forward neither to come back and face the consequences of his cowardness in this world of darkness where he was coming from...  
A surprisingly big wave made his balance stagger, a ground swell mingled and spiraled aroung his ankles and he fell. Within his body was no gas that could permit him to come back right to the surface, like the Humans could, and he let himself dive in the water, motionless, peacefully, his fall appeared to him slow and blurred, before his back hit the ground, he opened his eyes and there was so much water on him that he could almost not make out the moon shining in the sky. But he would never appear again on this world, upon the surface. His eyes closed, like if defeated by the heavy burden... He knew that, as soon as his body would find none of the feeding and saving energy it did need, the bubbles of energy that held him together would vanish and instantly he would be dissolved into the liquid; his energy would part and fly away and then only would the Commonality quiver on its base of the violent shock of the cut, or the interruption of life, like when he had devolved into  
the atavistic creature, but only more direct, more violent, more sudden; it would hurt, yes for sure, but fortunately no one would be there to see it, even not himself... It is with a smile that no one would ever see curling his lips that Da'an allowed the water to press further on his body and he felt relieved when he lost conscienceness, all of this painlessly.  
  
Not a second at been counted since Da'an had disapeared under the water, his dark shadow unmoving beneath the liquid over him, that Liam had understood: it was a suicide, a volunteerly done action to put an end to his days. Why was definitely the last question to come to his mind when he threw himself in the bay of ocean and started swimming with all his trenght toward the point where Da'an's energy form lightened the water with this aura of already dissolving little particles of energy. The only thing that he cared about, the only thing that mattered in his mind was the fatalistic reality that Da'an was going to die and that he, Liam Kincaid, had to do everything he possibly would be able to do to prevent this from taking place, becayse he knew that for him, living through days after days without Da'an, even if he could not see him, talk with him, every of these days would seem empty, would see worthless living, it would be like living without oxygen for anyone else. He  
nearly forgot to swallow hard the biggest gulp of air he could before diving in the water himself. Only two meters below, his hands encountered the Taelon's already and frighteningly limp body. He cracked his eyes open and almost screamed as the salted liquid invaded the delicate organs. He took Da'an's body in his arms, something that never ever in the past he had dared to do, except to carry out tasks that were to be resumed like his duty or protector, and bring him back to the surface. His feet found the ground and he walked to go back on the earth. It seemed hours to him, the waves were acting as though fighting against his return. Sometimes he had the feeling that he was simply backing away, more regressing in his path than going forward. But even so, after many minutes of the hardest, emotionally and physically as well, effort that he had given in a good while, he ended by collapsing onto his knees on the white sand. The Companion was still pressed against him,  
tightly. Liam did not want to release him, did not want for him to go again, like if he were seeking to prevent all of the smallest energy particles of Da'an to escape from the whole, by physically holding it tihgtly together in his sweating arms. He kept him hugged to his chest, the face pressed in his shoulder, perhaps unconsciously taking advantage of what never would Da'an have given him. This body, this limp body that tenderly he held to his own, this body now that seemed to be filled by death and coldness, this body that was the one of the being he loved... He could not go, he could possibly not go... ever... Not Da'an, it was impossible... Not him... too...  
  
But still the Taelon refused to regain conscienceness and was still desperatly unmoving between his hands. He stood up and took him in his arms, delicately, one arm passed under his back and the other under his legs and carried him away from the water. Under a tree where he placed him carefully, letting the sand morphing his body, taking the form of it, moulding it perfectly, almost looking like a bed. Liam laid him on the bed of sand and fallen leaves slowly, with the most respectful gestures he had ever thought to be possible to make... His heart was beating wild, after the physical effort given, but mostly and more with nervousness and anxiety, with this fear in mind that Da'an would not be back to him... with this immense fear that was to lose him forever. Tears rolled down his cheeks, lonely tears. He would lose him, Da'an would be taken away from his loving gaze. The salted water of his tears melted with the droplets of ocean that were left on him, this ocean that had  
stolen to him his beloved... He did not dare to touch him, he could not dare, not now, he was so fragil, he thought that is he touched him, all of the smallest energy would fly away with no hope or ever returning... To never come back... He just stayed there, simply there, leaning over Da'an, over a maybe dying Da'an... the tears were still wetting his cheek to that slow regular rhythmic, one after one. His thoughts were like frozen, frozen into shock perhaps, his muscles refused to contract themselves, he was completly lost in the maze of despair that was the though of simply, the simple thought, to lose this wonderful being below him. And then a prayer left his lips, silently, "Da'an, I beg of you, do not leave me... because I will die if you leave..." he almost moaned.  
  
Da'an came back to awakening slowly. The first noticed thing was that he could still feel the Commonality. The second one was the soft feeling of the sand under his back... But there was also a prayer, a kind voice to his ears, but the words seemed to be strangers to his understanding, as if he were not able of comprehend and ceize their meaning. He did not understand, he could not understand... Then, a form, humanoid leaning over him... A dark form... He jerked away, afraid, seeing a hand stretching out to touch his face. Who? Who? Who was it? He wanted to scream, to call, to fight, but two hands too strong for let him any hope of winning against their iron grip locked his two smaller closed fists in them. Then he opened his eyes completly and he saw the face of his protector Liam Kincaid only inches away from his own. And his fear only grew. "Da'an. Da'an! It's me! It's Liam." And the young man did see that the Taelon had recognized him... and that he was only more afraid  
than he had been before and he froze, releasing the alien, too chocked to know if he sould be happy that Da'an did survive or infinitely sad that he had rejected him.  
  
"Leave me... Do not touch me..." whispered Da'an, though with so much strenght and dread contained in his voice that Liam obeyed despite every commands that his good sense of loyal protector gave him. The Taelon backed away and stepped back on kness until his back touched the tree, his hands were raised in front of his chest, ready to defend, ready to fight... against him... against Liam that in all the universe was doubtlessly the person that would never have wanted to do him the smallest harm. Da'an slowly lowered his hands, his defenses and his breath ragged, short, he let his head fall in fatigue, until his chin touched his upped chest. His shining form of energy projected on them strange shadows that seemed like living lines of light running through the night sky. Lifting his head again, Da'an could catch a curious glimpse of his young protector, almost naked, sitting on his heels, wet from the bath in the ocean, his breathe short and irregular, nearly feverish, his  
eyes showing this... fearful, infititely sad look, as if in the dread of being... rejected? Yes, oh yes, this was this look in his eyes, and how much was it intense at the moment... Da'an broke the stare that he had for a few seconds shared with the young man and fixed his eyes on the ground, not totally aware and sure of himself as to where put his glance where it could rest in calm. A... strange feeling was rising withing his self, a kind of... of anger, but also mingled, shaded with... with guilt. But why? Why should he feel guilty anf of what? The eyes of his hybrid protector were filled with this immense sorrow once more and still were locked on his persona. And Da'an could have sworn that there he had seen tears, but when he raised the head again, Liam was no longer open and readable to him. He had turned away, his whole body was shaken, his shoulders were rhythmically quivering, like as if shivering in a simple feeling of coldness, but Da'an sensed a faint trembling  
catch his hands as he realized that the faint movements were not shivers but sobs...  
  
Kincaid stepped back of another meter, noticing coldly that his physical closeness was still too much for Da'an. Then, he shook his head away and let a single, lonely tear flow down, unseen mingling with the maze of droplets of salted water on his cheeks; he did not want Da'an to see him crying, he had been humiliated enough by his friends of this love, this love, this needed feeling that had been refused to him, that even the dearest persons to his heart had not been able to comprehend and it was enough for him to know that he was feared, he did not want to be despised for his feelings as well and then he hid. He would not let to Da'an the chance to look at his crying form and shaking frame, perhaps would the Taelon be able to guess what he was crying for, or who, and this should not happen. He sat on the sand, away from his Companion, half-turned toward the roaring see and half toward the Taelon lying on the leaves with his back against the tree. There was almost a  
complete minute of a pure silence, only troubled by the whispers of the ocean and the wind, that was starting to rise along with the day that pointed his colors at the horizon but ever so faintly that it was almost remaining unseen. "It was a suicide attempt wasn't it?" There was no answer, and no sign that Da'an had ever heard him either, though Liam could tell that the Companion had listened to him and was simply ignoring him or refusing to answer or simply was scared. "If you wanted to kill yourself, then why haven't you simply dissolved in the air?" Though Liam knew the answer to his own asking - after years of siding Da'an, he could almost pretend to be able to get into his head - he was still demanding, just for the pleasure of hearing his voice. The Human had to do something, it was an impulse that ran through his nerves, he had to tell something, to say something, to yell, to run, to do something with his body and to occupy his mind because if not the intensity of  
the moment, his heart beating wild and his pulse increasing would be a little too much for his nerves to stand.  
  
Da'an finally deigned show of himself a sign of existence, though his eyes did not leave the placid bay of the ocean some meters below, after the long beach of sand. "It does not change many things to you... You who must prefer for me to be dead than to be alive..." he murmured. It was in itself an avowal. He had just admitted that he had had the intention of commiting suicide, which action was... unless it was ordered by the Synod, a crime against the Commonality. Liam could very well now give him to the Synod's justice with the simple evidences of his words. Or simply go and reveal everythings of their conversation to Zo'or who would gladly take care of Da'an's dismissal from his seat within the Synod if the young man wished not to feel guilt. His eyes were absorbed in the attentive watching of the constant movement of the salted water and of the little cloud of white that covered every waves, so that Da'an never saw the little almost timid tear that threatened to fall  
down from Liam's eyes at this moment. Then it was really what the Taelon did think of him, a monster, a human monster that wanted his death, serving the Resistance and now the Alliance National Atlantic movement that he was part of... this and nothing else? He held back a sob in his throat so much that it hurt. "Do not interfere in this Liam. It will only do the best for both of us I am sure..." Da'an sighed. "You know nothing of my motives to commiting such an act and comprehension is not what I await for from your part... You know nothing of what suffering is to myself my own existence..." he said, his voice was bitter, the words had been spoken on a sharp tone, like ice, like little swords of ice entering Liam's skin everywhere; these words condemned him, like if he were responsible. And in a certain way he was, he was because he did distrust Da'an since months now, because he had not helped him to fight against Kryss, because no longer he supported his way of acting...  
And Liam felt incredibly responsible and angry with himself to have seen nothing before it was too late in this being though he observed him so attentively and so much. And once more sobs choked in his throat.  
  
His only mistake was to speak. "If I ignore everything of what suffering is your life, then you ignore as well of what hell is mine," he said slowly, very softly, as if speaking for himself, as if he believed for an instant himself to be all alone here, but Da'an heard him. And the immense sadness that he had caught a brief glance of in these eyes, he listened to it as it filled every words that escaped his young protector's lips, he perceived it like a thin wave into the air, hitting him like a shockwave. The young hybrid lifted toward him eyes where shone such an adoraiton... And in which he did not even attempt to hide his tears... Da'an at this surprising and unforeseen sight felt all... odd inside, a strange sensation of nervosity filled his whole body and mind, and... and all ideas that could have helped his fear to grow, this fear of Liam seemed to disapear, only as he glanced, as he locked his own eyes with the man's. "And if... And if... Unlike everything you think  
you know of me, on the contrary of all you think about me... If I didn't hate you nor did I despise you... But if I loved you like a little child... If I cherished all the moments that you allow me ever so rarely to spend in your company... And if I felt dying inside with each stares from your cold eyes, because you hate me so much... And if I cried in the night when you had sent me away from you because you feared I would harm you... Oh Da'an, never I could harm you... You cannot know what it is... I feel dying inside... More and more with every minutes I spend away from your side... Every of these hard words do like wound in my flesh... and in my heart-..." He stopped suddenly, plainly realizing what he had just... dared to say; the avowals, the sacred words that he had repeated, that on countless occasion he had been closer and closer to say... these words had fell from his lips, had skipped past his control... and had had a witness. THE witness, this witness that never  
even in his craziest dream he had hoped would listen to him. He felt his face flush with red, though in the darkness of the night, the only light being the blue and purple coming from Da'an's energy pathways, it was undistinguishable from the usual color of everything around them, but he felt the red coloring his cheeks, under the tears melting to the water. The words had been let out only in... in a lack of attention he kept on himself and his temptation to reveal his feelings, he had broken the promise, this promise he had made to himself, this only promise, this that went before everything and all to him... And Da'an was looking at him, gazed at him with these wide blue orbs of blue in which floated this almost... kind look that Liam had not seen since so long... A kind look... A soft look... was for Liam like a caress to his soul, like a healing hand stroking gently the wound dug in his heart. He felt himself shiver and closed his eyes as he completly understood how  
precious and decisive was the moment, of the some seconds that had just passed by, this short moment in time, moment that he had filled of words that meant everything to him, more than his fight, more than his life, more than his secret - and this was why he had kept it a secret, because the skilled hand could know how to use this weakness against both the Resistance and the Taelons. Slowly Liam brought his hands to cover his face, buried in them his face and his shame. Now, not only would he have gained Da'an's despise, but more the Taelon would know that he could do whatever and everything he wanted to do with the young man, that he could manipulate him to obey the least of his wishes, he could take advantage of this love... uncontrolled, and unbridled, almost this passion, that offered to him this child that knew nothing about nothing... No longer standing it, Liam stood up on his legs that by a last sparkle of pride he kept from shaking and failing under him and his  
hands now clenched into fists he turned to leave, but Da'an's voice stopped him.  
  
"Liam," the Companion called out, calmly - after all was it not his role that to hide his feelings, especially feelings of this kind? The young man did not walk forward, stayed at the place where he had raised, but did not turn around to face who was talking to him; he could not bear, could not bear the sacrifice to his pride that would be to turn around and to let his former surperior look at his tortured features. He had been humiliated enough like this. A cool wind, coming from the sea, made him shudder briefly, in cold, rmeinding him quite sarcastically that his clothes were on that rock, 30 meters away from the beach. His muscles contracted and shivered again, but nothing could mask this interior coldness that he felt filling him, and this shiver was only to be followed by a longer one and so one... So that Liam simply brought his kness against his chest, crossed his arms around them and let his cheek rest against his own momentarily warm skin.  
  
Da'an approached the young protector curled up on himself. He knew, and this he could not possibly doubt, unless everything he had once known of Liam had changed to its contrary, that Liam had never had the habits to lie about his feelings. This... This avowal was filled with truth, he knew it, he felt it... These words, these shivers, these sobs... they were not things possible to mimick, to fake... Then, then the young man, his protector, his... his friend had suffered, and by his only fault, and he had suffered in silence, all this time, all this time had passed between them and all this time he had loved Da'an. The Taelon's own voice appear to him so hard still, "Liam... Look at me," he asked, his voice bearing the softest tone that ever he had come to employ with someone. Liam had sufficiently suffered, too much already in fact, for the shoulders of one self, the burden was becoming too heavy to carry; then maybe this... this parkle, this little lightning of warmth that  
was growing within Da'an, that perhaps had been hiding, but that anyway made now his gestures to be stiff ones, nervous... motions  
  
Kincaid raised slowly, very slowly, the eyes and locked them on the object of his love. He knew that never he could listen to despising words, if the words that escaped Da'an's fine lips were bitter, mocking, he would raised, walk away and dive into the water, never to see the surface again, and he would die in shame and in pain... His existence that had slowly and each day more difficultly evolved through this agony of rejected love would end on the same tone... He did not dare to stare at him, as he had been softly ordered to, he was simply looking elsewhere, he had fixed his eyes on a point beyond Da'an's shoulders... He was almost surprised to see that the Companion was so close to him. Liam's muscles were more tense than ever, he could feel this strange heat of nervousness building inside him. The noise of the wind in the leaves was only increasing, had changed to a whisper, in any other occasion it could have been a somewhat soothing whisper, but not now. Liam shivered  
again, his skin cold now... but he knew he was cold, but in a certain way he was not. He did not feel it, not as he felt his heart begin to destroy itself in little pieces. He was now ready to hear his love being mocked, being humiliated and despised by the only one that ever he had felt for... Startled, he backed slightly when he sensed the tip of Da'an's fingers stroking his cheek and brushing against his skin. Not too sure of what was happening, but his mind almost being focused on the worst, he directed an empty stare on the ground of sand and fixed his eyes there, refusing to look at Da'an. "I... did not know," whispered the Taelon, his fingers almost softly touching the young man's feverish skin.  
  
The tone had been very soft, very slow, only... calm, calm and staid, like an... exucse, like a prayer, a prayer to be... forgiven. Liam felt his palms becoming covered with sweat, the nervousness was now more vivid than ever and was travelling in his veins, making him tense under Da'an's now almost carresing hand. Without thinking, he could not find something else, could not decide of something else to prove, to show Da'an his love... no words, his lips were too dry and shaking, no thoughts, they were so completly disordered, then... without thinking, he took this hand that was on his cheek and mingled together their fingers, closing his eyes as he did so, not daring to look at Da'an, though he felt that the Taelon's eyes rested on him. And more respectfully that he had ever done anything, he raised this hand to his lips and kissed this transluscent mix of matter and energy, it was warm against his skin, then after what to him seemed longer than eternity itself, he broke  
the touch and lovingly pressed this hand back against his cheek, this time covering it with his own, closing his eyes tightly, only feeling the moment... Unsure of how Da'an would react, unsure of how it would end, but before everything taking a little advantage, a little sample of this wonder that never he had been given access to, enjoying the time being.  
  
Da'an gently freed his hand and stroked Liam's wet hair softly with it. He hismelf was completly ignoring what he was doing. But all fear had disapeared, all distrust had fled away, Liam's doubt had been teared away by his own mistake in speaking. And the Taelon felt this flame, this flame of affection for the young hybrid growing warmer and warmer inside of him. His protector half-opened his eyes and followed, continued the moves of this hand on his skin, pressing himself further against Da'an, each of his motions gaining in courage and attempting what the previous had not, seeing that he was not rejected... His breathing became short and ragged, his skin in some seconds only became extraordinarily warm, he was himself looking almost feverish, and feeling like it. The Companion's other hand found the young man's fingers and gripped them tightly. "I am sorry," he murmured repeatedly. "If only I had known... If only..." With his fingers, he gently opened Liam's closed fist  
and pressed their palms together, feeling the sharp and yet gentle tingling of the shakarava; their minds were opened to each others, Da'an's older one, used with the practice and Liam's slightly scared one. Yet, despite his fear, Liam had no hesitation. Maybe because he had waited for this since so long... Da'an sensed the young protector's physical presence nearing as the Human let his head fall on the Taelon's shoulder, his eyes closed, his body shivering, closely pressed against Da'an's... He cried out softly in ecstasy as the first mental tendril that Da'an sent toward his inexperienced mind reached its goal and linked them together; Da'an knew that Liam needed the physical contact now more than ever and allowed the young man to pass an arm around his waist and hug him tightly. And then, they were both invaded, overhelmed by this myriad of emotions, of feelings, no words no thoughts in this swirling of minds, only emotions... This feeling, never as a Taelon Da'an had  
seen or known it as more than a gentle, simple affection, a liking. And no more. But now... Now, he lived with Liam the two last years in a terrible shaking rush, he shared with him what turn after turn had meant agony and wonder to him. Da'an saw how the young man had discovered what he felt for his superior, feeling that he had learned to live through at first in a way that was alll childish, innocent, calm... accepting. And this feeling, with each days, with each minutes, each stares, each words had grown, had grown to such a point that Liam had thought he was going insane... when Da'an had started to hide things away from him, to distrust him, to lie to him. The losses of his friends had shaken him, but this, this, to be betrayed, to be betrayed and despised to the point og being sued by the one he loved, it had hurt so very much that he had almost killed himself. The Taelon lived with Liam the nights spent crying, the nights of fever, when he did not want to sleep  
because he feared of what he would dream, because he refused to dream of what he would never gain... And then... then in the few last weeks, when he had been always more attracted by suicide, this exit... this exit to the trap of his love, by which he could escape this unfair life, where he was hated by the person whom he wanted to be loved by.  
  
He had been so right, life had ever been for him onle a long and suffering agony, even more than everything it had ever been for Da'an...  
  
Liam felt trembling, he felt himself trembling in Da'an's arms. The Taelon's hand had gently slid down onto his neck and was now stroking and massaging his shoulders... almost caressing. He was shaking. It could not be true, it was too... too beautiful to be true, it had to be some of the crazy dreams that he did sometimes, these dreams that he remembered nothing of but that he awakened for crying, his nails red with his own blood. Or perhaps, or... Da'an and him had died, or maybe only him, in the water, in the ocean, had been killed by the water, could not go back to the surface, had died, embraced, together, and now... now that they were dead and gone Liam had had the strenght of avowing everything. But his cheek was against Da'an's shoulder, his hand gently placed in his, caressing, his memories were brushed lightly by Da'an's mind... The Companion was trembling against him too, with long and seemingly feverish shivers... And then... then he felt Da'an stopping to  
investigate through his head as the contact between their palms was broken and the tight grip that held their hands together was released, though not completly, sitll surviving to offer to each other's weak shell a support.  
  
Da'an let the young man place his forehead covered in sweat on his shoulder. His protector was trembling, then the diplomat took the Human's face between his hands... One on both cheeks... "You loved me... All this time... You loved me," he whispered, as if for himself all alone, as if he could yet not believe what he had clearly seen.  
  
"Since the first day of my life... I have. Since the first day I've met you... It was so simple... And I was so young at the beginning..." he murmured, excusing himself, with a smile, the first smile that had been shared between them since long. They were very close to each others and Liam was now perfectly aware of his surroundings, perfectly able to stare at Da'an in the eyes and then seeing there this glimmer... that shone in the blue orbs. It was so rare that he could admire the Taelon in his only true form of melting energy, his eyes ran everywhere, following every little line of lights that were weaving this maze for the eyes in the alien's body... An excitment, a nervousness, that had nothing to do with sex, was growing inside him, as he felt something growing into Da'an, some... emotion... a... a mutual, reciprocal feeling... in return! A joy as never he had known joy to be before reached every smallest cell of his being and filled it with itself. Da'an was shaking  
at his side, every fear had vanished from their embrace, and Liam slid his own hands to hold on the Companion's cheeks. "And now... Now I'm not sure if I'm dreaming... because it's too perfect to be real..." Their forehead touched as if they needed to support on each other, as if their feverish words were not strong enough to step over a too long distance in space. "You're trembling... Your hands are trembling on my cheeks..."  
  
Da'an's gentle interruption that slid one of his fingers aside to brush it against Liam's lips, forcing him to stop speaking. And the Taelon watched delightened as the youn man closed is eyes, submitting to the caress, as they both know that they were disordered throughts increasing in volume int heir head... "And your cheeks are trembling under my hands Liam... And... and... unusual... thoughts... are filling my mind..."  
  
A soft grin from Liam was all he received in acknowledgment of his last sentence. "And you'Re there, whispering words in my ears..." retorted Liam. Their hands slid down to meet each other. Their fingers sought for their companions, ceaselessly, their hands undid, then were back to caress and stroke each other's, like in inextricable ties, without taking any logical way... No, their love was everything but logical, the love of Liam for Da'an, and now od Da'an for Liam was everything but logical...  
  
They shared a lot of mutual respect, too much in fact to do amny more than this... Their thoughts became a common place, where both could find a retreat of peace and calm, to gain some mental rest. Liam cried in joy, and Da'an dried his tears. The night was dissipating, slowly, and day came, dawn only, the sky came to be teared by colors, and they seemed new to them, these colors, these forms, everything seemed new to them, they were new. Questions could and would wait and both knew it... Their biggest fear and pain had been blown away. Because they had promise to never ever leave each other's side. All would be so different now. Day found them together, still and yet to be. Da'an was curled up on himself on the ground, his eyes closed, in a state of meditation nearing sleep, or unconscienceness, his human appearance still banished. The wind shook through the leaves, violently almost, producing this murmur, this whisper, soothing... The sand was crunching under Liam's feet  
as he came back from the ocean, wet; he had gone there, picking his clothes up, he could not after all return to the hotel in boxers. Just before leaving for the some minutes that would be needed to go and take his clothes back with him, he had leaned down and respectfully placed a gentle kiss on the forehead of a sleeping Da'an, assuring him that he would not be gone for long, to what Da'an had responded by an unconscious smile. It was amazing to see how fast could the things change. Six hours before only, he was firmly decided to commit suicide, and now all he wished for was to be allowed to spend the remaining of his life to the side of the being he loved. He sat on the ground, his... lover - did he dare, yes he dared, or so it seemed - still unconscious at his lap, and yet the word sounded strange in his head. He had waited so long for this... So many things that he and Da'an had given to reach. And from this moment and as time would go on, neither him nor Da'an would be  
alone again. He was aware of this dependency that Kryss held onto Da'an, and if needed he would help him to fight it. And Da'an had seen the recent cut on his forearm, almost bleeding still and the other scars, older... And the Taelon had simply looked at him in the eyes and had brushed his cheek against his. All the night had been only a series of moment shared between minutes of sleep, caresses and mutual thoughts exchanged...  
  
Kincaid stood up to put his clothes back on and then fell on the ground beside his mate once again, lowering the eyes on Da'an that was still peacefully sleeping, or meditating, or resting anyway, and that was what was important, because Da'an had still to forget and to get better from his experience of the last night. His companion passed his arms arounf his waist when he felt his return, not awakening still, and let his head on his thighs. Liam did not cry, even in joy this time, he had cried out all of his soul this night, but he kissed his own fingertips and tenderly touched them to Da'an's lips. Eventually, he would awake and they would both go back toward the civilization... But they had so much time left, the times that had been spent in sadness and pain already was of little matter, all of this pain was behind them. And before them, there was nothing else but future, future and this love, this total and perfect love that they had promised to each other, that they  
know they would gain until death would break the alliance.  
  
Liam could only smile when he thought to the reaction of Miss Palmer, officially a colleague but more like a close friend to him. Yet he hoped it would not be too desastrous. But of this, of the reaction of their peers, Da'an and him were not so caring about. They were in their little bubble, in their little world. Fine they would still work for both sides and try to prevent three speices to destroy themselves, but for the moment it was their last thoughts... They had time left for this. The young man smiled again and closed his eyes as he felt Da'an's return to conscienceness as his fingers were searching for the contact of his.  
  
Ronald Sandoval found Zo'or on the beach, at dawn, when the first rays of the rising bleeding sun hit the sleepy beings of this island, until then plunged in the darkness and in the whispers of the ocean. The Taelon had sneaked away, for the use of the most polite term, from the last evening's reception and his protector had gone in search for him, not as if it were an obligation, the trust existing between him and the Synod Leader being somewhat absent, but because he was willing to prove that still he was the little loyal and servile protector first; then because the exploration of an island at the very beginning of the day, completly alone, free, was tempting; and perhaps a little - though this he only had half-admitted it to himself - because of this curiosity that he had to express to Zo'or, about this long stare they had exchanged, heavy with words and feelings that simply he had found himself unable to complete decrypt and - though this he would never admit even if  
submitted to torture - because he was slightly worried about Zo'or, since this one had never in the past isolated himself voluntarily and during a so long time and especially in this kind of... place. And maybe was this island dangerous. But anyway if it were one of his greatest enemy would disapear... to never come back again maybe, then why would he not let the time and Zo'or's particular character do their work and achieve what he, Sandoval, had planned since so long? He would then have the full power aboard the motherhisp and his alliance with the Jaridians would fullfill his goal if he had something to give them in exchange, something real and seeable. But eve so, this smaller than smallest sparkle of what he could difficultly put a name on had perhaps messed his plans up a little more than what he could admit. And Da'an and Kincaid that had been seen nowhere since they had... gone back to their quarters - or from what they had said of it, though honestly Sandoval  
permitted himself to think that they had done something else than going back to their quarters - on last evening. But there was no way out of the secured perimeter circling the hotel and everyone could think that they would anyway finish to come back by themselves.  
  
Zo'or was sitting on the beach, the water was here rolling on the sand, without the rocks that formed a little bay of calm water, a little higher on the beach. The Taelon was almost lying on the sand in fact, his legs parted slightly, his knees folded only a little, his arms tense behind him, supoorting all of his body, his hands digging in the sand, his face turned as if he had been looking at the night sky, his eyes half-closed, his lips parted... And his human facade was only a very vague shade barely protecting the eyes from seeing the thiny nerves of energy that made him to be what he was, and this pinkish almost nuanced with orange color of the taelon youth was only accentuated by the light coming from the rising sun, that bathed him. The implant could not stop a shiver at this sight. It was... it was... well, if he could not tell what it was, he could easily tell what it was not: it was not what had Zo'or used them to since the few last years spent under his comman.  
There was something even... sensual in the shape and think to Zo'or in this way... frightened him a bit, though that this feeling never went beyond the rigid and usual mask of implant and protector. And a little something more caught his attention: Zo'or was not waring the diplomatic suit that all of the taelon diplomats had to wear, at least when they were on Earth or in interaction with Human for meanings that had remained unknown even to someone like Sandoval, that almost considered himself to be intimate of some Taelons... And he could feel his face flushing when he realized that in fact he had nothing one and was naked, though he had never seen any Taelon show some sense of modesty with his body. When he realized toward what were his thoughts heading now, he shook his head and turned the eyes away from this creature of dream bathed by this same bleeding light, that gave to the water this color half way between pink and blue, very strange... Then he stepped forward,  
finally, his bare feet digging in the sand melted with the cool water, his shirt moulding his muscled chest in the wind, his pants already wet, touched by the little droplets of water that were projected on the beach each time the waves were finishing their course... No, he knew that he did not like... like himself at all. But strangly, he just did not care and if Zo'or himself thought that here, away from every stares, he could drop the facade, get away this persona that stuck to him like a second skin, then maybe he, the agent Sandoval, could do the same...  
  
"Good morning," he said, not coldly, but not warmly either, simply neutral.  
  
The Taelon was surprised to hear the silken-like voice of his protector and, of a few quick gestures, always without looking in his direction, brought himself back in a position somewhat more noble and worth of what he had to show o fhimself, though he did not feel so bad at the idea of being seen, being taken apart by surprise and by this man especially. It had given to the agent Sandoval to see in him something else than the stiff and formal Leader of the Synod that he knew, but anyway Zo'or doubted that it would change anything for his attaché. He brought his knees against his chest and crossed his arms around his folded legs, putting his chin against them, the waves of water rolled still onto him, reaching his waist, licking the sand, then returning where they belong. "Greetings," he finally mechanically answered, closing his wide eyes that seemed at the moment to share this color, a mix of blue and pink but never allowing the two to totally melt into each other, this  
color that hs eyes gained when he was in his natural form. He let his body being rocked by the moving water, while silently hoping that Sandoval would not take advantage of this moment during which he allowed himself to rest to skrill him; no, because definitely, this beach and this ocean were too beautiful to permit him to die there. Yes, truly to beautiful.  
  
The implant feel on the ground more than he sat, only some inches away from his taelon master, and shivered as the first wave of water hit his legs, then he again felt, somewhat relieved, the warmth of the sun. He had to ask this question, if not he would never again have the strenght to do it. But simply, asking to Zo'or if he... did love him would put Sandoval terribly ill at ease and he feared that the Taelon would not answer his question. And curiously he did not fear the fact that Zo'or could order him dead after the kind of question he would be requesting a clear answer to, or anyway not more than he feared for the Taelon to ignore his question and refuse to give it a response. Even so the implications were immense, how could Zo'or possibly love him? After all what he had done to him? He had trid to kill him. He despised him for what he thought of mankind, or well he thought he despised him for what he thought of mankind, now... now that everything was different, that  
perhaps Zo'or was not who he pretended to be, all had been changed a bit, his vision of the whole fight had been twisted to the extreme. If it were true, then what would happen to them-...  
  
Here everything stopped. Sandoval's musings suddenly stopped their restless whirling in his head; and he closed his eyes and sighed as he felt the presence of Zo'or, and how close this presence was, more intensely than ever before, there, besid ehim, only some inches away from his touch. And he had thought: them. Them as a whole and that was what was scaring the hell out of him now. If he thought this way, maybe it could mean that... that... No! He stopped there, once more, it was impossible. He could not love Zo'or, he could not permit himself to love Zo'or, he thought, saying each of the words firmly and strongly in his head, while keeping himself forced to stare fixingly at the ocean before him isntead of turning the head away to gaze at Zo'or as well as fighting with himself to keep steady and unwavering this perfect and obeying implant facade. He COULD not... Was it really true? Maybe then, the motivations could change, and... and his own as well, he forced himself to  
add, like Zo'or's. Then, if this did change, maybe everything else could change. Yes, many things else.  
  
Ah damn. He loved Zo'or. There had just been a little personal touch, a reflection, a thought to add to the unconscious concept that quietly his CVI had been forming to make him realize completly what he was embarked into. It was... it was true... He did love Zo'or. As he passed in front of his eyes again, many events, so many fragile touches, short, wavering stares exchanged. He lovewd Zo'or, the Synod Leader, a person who he needed to both trust with his life and to fight against, to cheat his own death. He sighed. Zo'or was a murderer, probably insane, but maybe only... strange and misunderstood in everything... Maybe that all of this strange atmosphere that had layer after layer made a cocoon around himself had an explanation. Yes, perhaps.  
  
But there could not be much things done with maybes. He needed answers. He sighed. But he could just not raise and ask Zo'or `Do you loe me? I need a yes or a no'.Then he would be forced to use more... subtle methods, slower though, but more efficient or so he hoped. "What are you doing here and at such a hour?" he asked, the eyes always fixing the cliff of the waves where it started to become a little cloudy and white, still refusing to look at Zo'or.  
  
Zo'or slowly turned his head to stare at his implant. He came to realize, or anyway seemed to realize at this moment in what kind of attire he was showing himself in. And he even surprised himself to admire, to watch attentively, and to find to this Human, to this man a certain beauty, more than the severe beauty that he had often qualified of... `nicely looking... for a Human', a certainly libertine beauty, though the man visibly kept himself from reavealing anything of what was behind the mask, the facade that everyone knew and the he, Zo'or, wanted to pierce, like Sandoval could have had pierced this mask that was his if he had wanted so, when this look had been exchanged, this look where so many things had been said, only it was that on of them would not be able to read and comprehend these things... "Have you never felt melancholy agent Sandoval?" he whispered, freeding his legs and spreding them out on the ground, crossed on his ankles, plunging his hands back into the  
wet sand.  
  
The Taelon was surely unconscious of the stare that ran on him, very attentively his protector, so well and so longly that when he realized what he was doing, Sandoval briefly wondering if Zo'or wanted to-... No, not his style, he thought, destroying the thought. "I didn't know you were such a melancholic person..." he whispered back.  
  
"Then visibly you have little knowledge of me..." The tone was not harsh, not cold, though it had been sharply spoken, firm, without leaving the interlocutor with the possibility of rpelying before thinking carefully about what he was going to say. It was an affirmation, a certainty.  
  
"Maybe not as you believe Zo'or," he retorted, letting, allowing for once the mask to dissipate, to fade away, revealing in his black almond eyes an expression nearing curiosity but not totally cold either... The Taelon turned to him an inquisitive look, but there was in that, something... something almost like nervousness... Like if he knew very well what was Sandoval going to say.  
  
The implant felt his heart hammer in his chest, so hard that he seriously thought that it was going to rip his ribs apart from the inside. Since how much years had he not felt such a nervousness? He took a deep breathe that he forced himself to let out very slowly, almost like a hissing, so that it could be confused with the vague whisper of the ocean and finally the words escaped to his lips, he could not have held them back even if he had wanter to. "I... need to know Zo'or, I need to know if what I've seen yesterday was... was true..." he said with the feeling of having a lump in his throat, praying for that Zo'or would not ask what he was talking about...  
  
Zo'or felt a shiver going down his spine. He inched closer to Sandoval, only some inches but was relieved as he noticed that he accepted, that in fact they both accepted the physical closeness, this shared bubble of existence. He sensed a kind of warmth... starting to flame up inside him, extending its warmth to all smallest parts of his body, his fingers were shaking though he hid it, he knew that his cheks would have turned to a furious blue tone, revealing his energy form, if he already was not in his natural state and his eyes were desperate of finding a place where to stare at... Then, his implant knew... already, he had to have read it, in his eyes, the previous day, during this long gaze that they had exchanged - or shared? - but the how was not important, because the fact was there. And now, now he was there, sitting at his side, demanding from him nothing more than avowals and there was this star shining in his eyes from which Zo'or could clearly tell that he was  
not indifferent in regards to his... his... feelings for him. The Taelon was not sure of what he could permit himself to admit and what he should do now, but he knew simply that it was how too late to ignore the consequences of his actions, this embarassing feeling should have been killed mercilessly at his very beginning, when it had firstly started to influence on Zo'or's judgement and then it would not be now putting at risk the whole taelon people, if Sandoval used of his influence on Zo'or, an influence that he would no longer ignore possessing, to make him reveal informations... that should stay secret. But it was too late already, the words were already going beyond the edge of his lips. This melodious voice that was his, where the uncertain and wavering, toned accent of the Eunoia was trying to pierce under the rough english language, consequence of the incredible nervousness, murmured, "You... have judged what you have seen... quite well Agent."  
  
It was everything from Zo'or's part that he would ever gain as an avowal and both of them knew, both of them knew of their own feelings, but both were unwilling to break and shut down every of their defenses. Who would say the next words? Who would lower his guard the next one? Sandoval was the very first to react, "It's... quite surprising and from your part... especially. But though the feeling isn't completly mutual... well... I'm not made of ice either and... I'm not indifferent to it. In the good way..." Their faces were only some inches apart, perhaps three or four... Sandoval hesitated longly, very longly, and then, leaned forward and, raising the hand, touched his fingertips lightly to Zo'or's cheek, melting into the faint tingling and vaguely pleasing sensation that resulted. Zo'or closed his eyes and concentrated, seeking to burry every seconds of the precious memory in the depths of his mind... because maybe he would never know something that was as rich in  
emotion as this was... And he wished to keep a souvenir, a memory from this life...a good one, if... if it were lies, then at least... he would have the belief of love in his memory and this first touch, this first time that anyone else than a non-Taelon had touched his body seeking affection. But the physical contact opened a conduct of thoughts between their minds, a link... Zo'or was briefly shaken with the power that emanated from this human mind and accepted the thoughts that were offered to him... He saw this possible beginning of affection... of love. And he saw as well Sandoval's ideas, his motivations, his feelings... He did not see everything, but he saw enough to know that despite everything that might be shown on the exterior he had been right in his choice... "I'm gonna need some time..." murmured Sandoval finally, a bit... startled by the sudden flow, almost overflow, even for his CVI, of thoughts and feelings that had claimed entrance into his mind. He had  
seen this imple and delicate love that Zo'or had for him. This kind of silent despair that he would never know it, that they were enemies.  
  
Both calmer, they looked at each other, neither of them this time seeking to control and submit the other by the stare, as they did usually and before... and at the end of this look, they saw hope, hope of a life, if not normal and happy, at least somewhat calmer and softer for both of them. And Zo'or leaned forward and brushed his cheek against Sandoval's. The Human felt himself shivering almost violently as this being of light was offering him what was probably the first caress that ever he had given. It was a physical touch that was, he knew it, for the Taelons one of the rare way of showing love that had survived through their evolution, like a human kiss had he established in comparison. He felt quietly proud and honored, but the contact brought to him after some seconds more physical and mental pleasure than he had thought it would. Then he sighed before hugging Zo'or tightly against his chest, closing his eyes as he felt the Taelon resting his weight on his shoulder.  
Since how long had Zo'or been waiting for this? Too long perhaps, a too long time that Sandoval had closed his views and had simply contempted himself with the fact that he had every rights to hate and despise Zo'or and then could not realize what he really was and especially how dear he had become to him.  
  
They stayed embraced longly like this. They felt like nothing else existed around them, nothing else than them... They knew perfectly, more than perfectly, that their relationship together would never be without betrayals, without lies, like a constant battle, but they were not so preoccupied by it at the moment.  
  
After a certain time, they stood up finally, knowing that the Volunteers would be send to search for them. Zo'or accepted the hand that Sandoval offered him to take and they walked along the beach. The Taelon had felt the feelings... strange feelings, though they were not as aliens for him as they were for a now curious Commonality, that Da'an was now under the influence of. He had sensed them even before his announce through their mental commomality that he was permanently bonded to his protector Liam Kincaid.  
  
Things would perhaps not turn out to be so different, but they were going to change, and how so.... They would soon return into Washington, but there were now two couple, two pairs, hybrids, of Humans and Taelons... Then, perhaps were the things really going to change.  
  
FIN 


End file.
